


Under the Shadows

by celestialskiff



Series: Found Family [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Bed-Wetting, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Coulson, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Little Fitz, Little Jemma, Little Skye, M/M, Mommy May - Freeform, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Platonic Cuddling, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Self-Indulgent, Sharing a Bed, Thumb-sucking, bottles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Everything was different now. But kids still need a routine.</i> Age play reaction fics to episodes of S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written shortly after watching S02E01 because I have PROBLEMS. This will probably all be jossed by next week. It does follow on from my other SHIELD ageplay, "Girl Surrounded by Monsters", but it's not directly linked? I think? It's hard to write fic for an ongoing series! I'm putting it in the same universe, anyway. 
> 
> Warning for emetophobics: some vomiting caused by distress happens in this story.

Everything was different now. But kids still need a routine. As much as she could, Melinda tried to make each day follow a pattern for Skye. She didn't want Skye to feel that absolutely everything had been lost. 

*

Skye woke her that night. She gave a little whimpering cry, and then tried to stop herself, and choked on her tears. Melinda sat up with her, pulling Skye into her arms. Skye was warm, a little sweaty, and she pressed her face into Melinda's neck and breathed slowly. Melinda stroked her back. She didn't tell Skye to calm down, or that it was OK. These days, Skye only ever allowed herself a few seconds to be frightened, and Melinda wanted her to express those feelings. 

“The same dream?” Melinda asked, smoothing back Skye's hair. 

“I don't remember.” A pause, a sniffle. “I'm sorry I woke you.”

“Don't be.” 

Skye sighed. “I guess we should try to sleep again.” 

“Lie down,” Melinda said, and Skye lay on her side, facing towards Melinda. Melinda found Skye's blanket, rolled into a ball towards the bottom of the bed, and she smoothed it out and laid it under Skye's cheek. Melinda stroked Skye's back. Skye's eyes were closing. Her thumb slid into her mouth, and, looking at her, for a moment Melinda felt calm, and at peace. 

*

Most mornings, Melinda woke a few minutes before Skye. In those moments, she'd watch Skye because it was the only time when she looked entirely like her little self. Melinda remembered other mornings, when Skye and Jemma had shared her bed, curled together like kittens, and would wake yawning, squabbling with one another. Or days when Skye had woken between her and Phil, and snuggled into Melinda's arms, and Melinda had been tempted to spend the whole morning with her. 

Often, she was still tempted to spend the day with Skye. Skye didn't get enough time to be little—she barely had any time at all, and Melinda thought she needed more. She wanted to say, “Nothing else is important, except you,” and spend the day playing with Skye, tickling her, giving her Lego, watching videos, and soothing her with bottles and hugs, until Skye lost the haunted look she'd had for so many months. 

But every morning she woke Skye just after five, stroking her back. This morning, despite Skye's disturbed night, despite her many disturbed nights, she woke easily, murmuring something sleepy. “It's time to wake up now,” Melinda said. She wanted to whisper endearments, but didn't. She pulled Skye into a hug again, for one last moment of warmth, of affection, before they faced the day. Skye pressed into her arms hungrily, burrowing her face into Melinda's chest. 

Then she slid out of bed and went into the bathroom, shedding her little self with every step. 

*

Skye was always tense. Melinda noticed, because she noticed everything. Skye was always alert: she never let her guard drop. In some ways, it was good, Melinda thought. Skye had needed to be more in control to work in the field. But she was afraid of what that tension hid. As calm as she was on the outside, she knew Skye was hiding a terrified little girl, and Melinda wasn't sure hiding her completely was the best thing to do. 

But she was training Skye harder than she'd ever trained anyone. The mornings were devoted to precision and strength; the evenings to combat. Melinda needed Skye to be perfect. She needed her to be invincible. 

It wasn't fair to require those things of her. It wasn't attainable. But she couldn't lose Skye. Not now, when she'd already lost so much. Melinda fought with herself while she devised the training routines: she didn't want to push Skye too hard, to drain her, but she wanted her to be strong. She needed her to learn fast. 

“You're tough on me, Mommy,” Skye said one night in bed, half-asleep after a gruelling evening, her blanket pressed to her nose. 

She hadn't called Melinda _Mommy_ in weeks. Melinda had missed the sound of it. “Am I too tough?” Melinda asked. 

“Uh-uh. You can be tougher,” Skye said, jutting her chin out, trying to be strong even in the few moments Melinda has set aside for her to be little. 

*

After Jemma left, Skye had said, “I guess I should go sleep in my own room.”

She was looking up at Melinda from under her new bangs, nibbling at her lip. She hadn't slept by herself in months, and Melinda thought it would be a terrible idea. The last thing Skye needed was to feel like she had to be more independent. 

“No,” Melinda said, at once. Her voice came out harsher than she'd meant, a tone that allowed no arguments. For a second, she thought that wasn't fair to Skye. Skye should be allowed to discuss it with her. 

But Skye just nodded, and Melinda saw only relief on her face. Melinda put her arms around her. Skye felt small against her, even though she was strong and fit. “Why did you ask, if you didn't want to go?” Melinda said. 

Skye sighed, such a deep sigh it was almost a sob. “I thought you might want me to leave.” 

Melinda pulled Skye close, closer. “Never,” she said. “You know, Jemma cares about you too. About us. She left because she thought it would be best for Leo...”

“I know,” Skye said, face against Melinda's neck, her breath warm against Melinda's skin. “I miss her.”

Skye was always sleepy in the evenings after the long training sessions, and tonight was no exception. Melinda had the same bedtime routine for her, the one she'd always had. Routines were important. As Skye shed layers of clothes and make-up, her little self began to emerge, anxious but pliant. She helped Skye dress in pyjamas and a pull-up, and settled her on the bed, with her blanket and her elephant. 

Melinda prepared a bottle for Skye, and Skye nestled her head against Melinda's chest. She felt a wave of calm flow through her body as she held Skye like this, Skye looking up at her sleepily. She needed this, too, she needed these moments of peace with her little girl, maybe as much as Skye needed them.

Skye seemed to be settling into sleep when she stiffened slightly, and grabbed for Melinda's hand. “But Daddy left too,” she said. And then squirmed and said, “Coulson. I'm sorry, it's...”

Melinda sighed. “He's working. He misses you.” But as she said it, she could taste the lie in her mouth. She didn't know how Coulson felt. 

*

Melinda visited Leo when she could. She knew Skye went to the lab too, but they didn't go together. It was easier to talk to Leo down there than in the kitchen or any of the recreation areas, but Melinda still wasn't sure that her presence helped. Leo only ever seemed half-present, and Melinda missed Jemma's calm. 

It seemed disrespectful to ask him if he was eating, but Melinda often brought down little snacks and left them nearby. She instructed the other techs to make sure he left the lab, and she put ingredients for his favourite sandwiches in the fridge. It was the most he would let her do. 

She tried to talk to Phil about him, but Phil's mind was mostly on the cloaking technology. “Have you visited?” she asked. 

“I thought you were taking care of him,” Phil said. He looked exhausted, and Melinda didn't know how to reply, so she didn't say anything at all. 

*

Melinda was very good at keeping in control. It made people think she didn't have any emotions at all. But when she realised that Phil had sent Skye to see Ward, she was sure her feelings were written on her face. She could feel the tension in her muscles, the tremor in her hands. 

She wanted to break Ward's larynx again. She wanted to render him speechless so he couldn't say a single word to her little girl. 

She also wanted to yell at Phil: to ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. 

She kept calm. She kept calm around Phil, and she kept calm around Skye too, when she came back. Skye didn't need to see how upset Melinda was: that would only scare her. Melinda squeezed Skye's shoulder, and hoped Skye understood that Melinda was there if she needed her. 

Melinda beat the hell out of a punching bag in the gym, and when Skye came in, she hugged Skye so tight she could feel her bones. “Mommy,” Skye said, “You're squashing me,” but Melinda could feel that she was trembling too, and she only relaxed her grip, she didn't let go. 

They sat on the floor in the gym, and Skye crawled into Melinda's lap. They never touched like this in public, where someone could walk in. But for once, Melinda found she had lost her control, and she needed to hold Skye as much, maybe more, than Skye needed to be held. 

Skye slid her thumb into her mouth, her head resting on Melinda's shoulder. Melinda kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair, breathing in Skye's smell. She heard the soft sound of Skye's thumb moving in her mouth, felt Skye's fingers fisting in her shirt. 

“Baby,” Melinda murmured softly. “Baby.”

“I was scared,” Skye said, voice slurred around her thumb. 

“I know,” Melinda said. “I know. I wish you hadn't needed to go down there.” 

Skye nodded. “Want my blanket,” she murmured, sounding small and childish. 

“We don't have to train this evening,” Melinda said. “We can go and cuddle in bed. We'll watch TV. Or anything you like.”

But Skye was shaking her head. “No. We need to.” Her voice was choked. “We have to keep going.”

Melinda could feel how tense Skye was in her arms. For a moment she'd slipped, she'd relaxed, she'd told May what she needed, but already, her control had returned. She was forcing herself back into being an adult. She was, Melinda realised, becoming as terrified as Melinda herself of ever letting go. 

“OK,” Melinda said, sighing. “Just for a little while.” 

*

The nightmare didn't come until two nights after that. But Melinda couldn't remember one ever being worse. Skye had bad dreams often—it was, after all, one of the reasons this relationship had begun. She often woke scared, or wet, or both, and sometimes cried out at night. But this night she screamed, the sound waking Melinda with a jolt. Skye pressed her hands to her mouth, muffling her cries, but Melinda could still hear the choked-back screams. 

Melinda stroked her damp forehead, and whispered soothing words, but Skye remained stiff. Her eyes were glassy: she didn't seem to see Melinda. She wasn't crying. Her hands were fisted, her body tense, and she made little, guttural sounds in her throat. Melinda had never seen her like this—she usually woke shaky but pliant, accepting of hugs and comfort. 

She turned the lights on, hoping it might ground Skye. Skye blinked, hands to her eyes, her face very white. She was trembling. Suddenly her eyes focused on Melinda, and she groaned. “'M gonna be sick,” she said, choking, hands fisting in the bed sheets. 

It was good to have something concrete to do: Melinda could help her with this. She hurried her out of bed, and they made it to the bathroom before Skye threw up. She crouched over the toilet, retching horribly. Melinda stroked her back and smoothed down her hair. Skye coughed up another long stream of watery vomit, and then was still. 

Skye crouched on the bathroom floor, white and trembling, long after the spasms had subsided. Melinda drew her away from the toilet, but didn't make her stand up. She was shaky and clammy, her eyes huge in her pale face. Melinda gave her a damp cloth to wash her face, and went out to get water. 

Skye sipped delicately, still speechless. Melinda sat next to her on the bathroom floor, her hand on Skye's arm, letting her know she was there without crowding her. Skye didn't seem ready, yet, for hugs. 

They sat in silence, until May said, “Was it Ward again?” 

Skye looked at her for a moment, and then suddenly, without warning, began to cry. They were desperate, panicked tears, cries racking her whole body, raw gasps filling her throat. Melinda felt lost for a moment, powerless to help, and angry. She always wanted to keep Skye safe, whole and happy, and the last months had taken so much from her. 

It was Skye who crawled into Melinda's lap, not Melinda who pulled her there. Melinda wrapped her arms around her tightly. Skye was crying so hard Melinda was afraid she might make herself throw up again, but Melinda didn't want to tell her to stop. She stroked her back and murmured to her meaninglessly, soft words intended to soothe. 

“He's down there,” Skye murmured. “He's in the building.”

“I know,” Melinda said. “He can't get out, you know that.”

Skye pressed her face into Melinda's neck. “I think I wet my pants, too,” she said softly. 

Melinda reached down and patted Skye's butt: she could feel the heaviness of the pull-up that suggested Skye had indeed wet herself. That wasn't surprising. Melinda was almost glad, because it gave her something else concrete she could do to help. She kissed Skye's temple. “Let's get you cleaned up, baby.” 

*

Only a few hours later Melinda's body clock woke her. She looked at her alarm: it was 6.30 am. She didn't get up. Skye had finally fallen asleep, exhausted and still shaky, after lots of gentle soothing. She was pressed into Melinda's side, her blanket fisted in her hand, her thumb at her lips. Melinda wasn't going to wake her. 

Let the other wonder where she was. Let them wait. Melinda curled close around Skye, shielding her from unseen dangers with her own body. Melinda was sure she wouldn't sleep again: she was never able to sleep in, her body too disciplined after years of training. She'd just lie here and listen to the soft sound of Skye's breath. But before she knew it, Melinda's eyes were drifting shut. 

*

When she woke again, Skye was sitting up in the bed next to her. For a moment, Melinda felt like no time had passed since they were living on the Bus, and she and Phil were gradually helping the kids to be little. Skye's thumb was in her mouth, the toy elephant Melinda had given her under her arm. She had her phone, but Melinda could see she was just playing the silly zoo game she liked. 

“Morning, baby,” Melinda said softly. 

“You're up,” Skye said, thumb barely leaving her mouth. “It's late.” Her voice was hoarse. 

“Come here,” Melinda said, yawning as she opened her arms. Skye put down the phone and snuggled obediently next to Melinda, resting her head on Melinda's shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh. We missed training.” 

“Well, I'm your SO, and I say that's OK.” Melinda stroked Skye's cheek, and Skye pressed into the touch like a cat. “Sometimes rest is more important.” 

Skye nodded. She groped for her blanket, and played with it, running her fingers over the soft binding. She looked terribly young, and for a moment, Melinda felt so protective, so angry that her little girl was forced to have such nightmares, that she almost choked on it. Instead, she smoothed back Skye's hair, feeling Skye relax a little under her fingers. 

“Shouldn't we get back to work?” Skye said. Her stomach growled suddenly, so loud Melinda could almost feel it herself. 

“No. I'm going to look after you for just a little longer,” Melinda said. 

*

Eventually, they did have to leave. Melinda checked on the other agents, and found a request from Phil that she visit him immediately. Melinda read it twice, and then went to visit Leo in the lab. Skye was already down there, sitting next to him, her face calm, make-up hiding the deep shadows around her eyes. 

“Don't touch anything,” Leo was saying. 

“I'm not,” Skye protested. 

“...Well, Skye tries to be helpful, but she's not... not... Yeah, that's it.” Leo bent over the equipment. It was tangled over the desk: Melinda wasn't sure if the clutter was meaningless, or if it was evidence of hard work and concentration. 

Melinda had brought some cheese, some apple slices, some crackers, arranged on a plate. She put it down by Leo's elbow. She saw Skye had also brought him snacks: a package of Oreos, a can of coke. 

“I don't need...” Leo began, then he glanced at Melinda and said, “Thank you, Agent May,” before looking back at his equipment. 

Skye glanced up at Melinda. “I can't do anything with the hardware, but I'm working on some programming that'll help the cloaking interface with the Bus's old system.” 

“You should hang out with Fitz for a while,” Melinda said. She squeezed Leo's shoulder, and then Skye's, before she went back upstairs. 

*

“There you are,” Phil said. He was searching through files on his desk, distracted. “I need to go over the details of our plan.” 

“I know,” Melinda said. 

“Long training session?” Phil asked. There were lines of worry all around his eyes. He wasn't looking at her. 

“No training.” Melinda sighed. “Skye had such a bad nightmare last night that she threw up.” 

Phil paused, then began to leaf through another file. “But you're taking care of it?” 

“She misses you.” 

“Things are different now...” Phil swept the stack of files aside and picked up his phone. “Maybe, soon...” But he didn't finish the thought. 

“Everything is different now,” Melinda agreed. “But kids still need a routine.” She paused, wondering if she should voice it. “Skye and Leo are my priority now.” 

Phil nodded. He didn't say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction fic to S02E02

The ocean would rise, sometimes, while he was in the lab. The waves would come up around him and wash over desks, the instruments, the computers. They lapped at the walls. And the lab was blue and silent, and then obliterated, and only Leo remained, floating. He was comforted in those moments, when the ocean washed through his head, when it soaked his skin. It was so still and he would feel finally, briefly, calm. 

When the ocean receded, Skye and Jemma were there. They weren't talking, but that was OK. He remembered they often sat close, side by side, without speaking, without even looking at each other. Jemma would work on a project; Skye would be on her laptop. From time to time they'd glance at each other, and share a smile. Sometimes Skye would put her hand on Jemma's arm, and ask her something. Often is was, “Can we play now?” and Jemma would roll her eyes. 

Their closeness had made Leo feel strange, once. He knew they had a world he didn't—wouldn't—share, and it made him lonely. He wanted the intimacy of their private smiles. But now he liked seeing them together. It felt like a long time since he'd seen them sharing space. 

“Am I disturbing you?” Skye said. Her voice was careful, as though if she spoke too loud, something might shatter. 

Leo shook his head. “You're always welcome,” Jemma said, with that warmth in her eyes she only showed him or Skye. 

“I thought you might need a break.” Skye was leaning against the desk next to him. She looked different from how he remembered her—her hair had changed, maybe, or her eyes. He didn't know. 

“I'm...” He was working. The ocean had risen. But it was gone now, and he was working. Camouflage. Bioengineering. He could see them in his mind, the shimmer of camouflage, the whisper of cells. He could see them, but the words weren't there. There was nothing in his mouth. His mouth. Nouns were important. 

Jemma smiled at him encouragingly. “We should go with Skye,” she said. “We need a rest.” 

A rest. Leo nodded. Maybe he did need a rest. He always felt weak after the ocean has risen, wrung out. His limbs shook. “Good. Come on,” Skye said. She held out her hand to him, but he didn't take it. He followed her. 

She brought him to her room. Except it wasn't her room, because he knew her room from the Bus, and this wasn't on the Bus. It felt different. There was a double bed, and it was dark down here. Skye switched on a lamp. Her bunk had been full of pieces of her: he remembered that. Laptop chargers, and old clothes, and her bright bed-cover, jewellery, smudges of make-up. This room felt different, but there was a toy elephant sitting on one of the pillows, and that, at least, was familiar. 

Jemma sat next to the elephant. “Skye's sharing with Agent May now, remember?” she said. Her smile was infuriating. 

“I know that,” Leo said. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to sit down. 

Skye gave him one of those odd, searching looks he kept getting from people. “I've got some snacks,” she said. “Nothing fancy, just some crackers and peanut-butter.” 

He wasn't sure he was hungry. He used to be hungry all the time, a familiar, hollow gnawing, but lately he never seemed to feel it. Skye and May were always trying to feed him. 

“I thought we could watch something on my laptop. Something stupid.” Skye sat on her bed too, near Jemma, taking her laptop out of her bag. “Sit next to me.”

Leo perched on the edge of the bed. He could remember a cartoon Jemma and Skye used to watch. Bright colours. He could remember the feel of it against his eyes, but he didn't know how to describe it. He didn't want to watch it, anyway. It was from another time. Jemma was quiet, fingering her sleeve. 

Skye opened some tabs. She sat next to him and clicked through them saying, “That one? What do you think? Or that one?”

Jemma usually had a lot to say about TV. Now she just slid off the bed and sat on the floor, silent, while Skye scooted up and sat where she'd been, leaning against a pillow. He tried to focus on the options. Cartoons. But cartoons were boring. His head hurt. Had he taken his medication? He didn't know. “That one!” he wanted to say when she got to a tab with Doctor Who but he heard himself murmuring, “Th... the... now,” instead. 

“OK,” Skye said. “But only one episode. This show is so stupid.” 

“And Adventure Time isn't stupid?” Jemma said from the floor. 

Leo nodded to her. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“It's OK.” Skye settled the laptop between them. He felt her warmth against his side. Now that she was closer, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, like bruises. She didn't look like herself, like the old Skye. And when he looked in the mirror, he barely recognised himself. Only Jemma looked the same. He was glad she was coping better. 

Skye picked up the elephant and held it in her arms. He looked away. For a moment, months ago, before, he'd begun to slip too, to play the game Jemma and Skye had entered so willingly with May and Coulson. He'd let Coulson put his arm around him, he'd let him tell him it was OK to relax. He'd let himself be comforted, and he'd watched Jemma suck her stupid dummy and had only felt tenderness towards her. 

But he couldn't slip now. He couldn't even think about it. 

He'd seen the episode of Doctor Who before. He couldn't quite remember it, but sentences chimed in his mind, like he'd heard them before. It helped to have that familiarity, it steadied him. Skye was so warm next to him. He felt his hands going limp, and when he relaxed them, they began to tremble. But that was OK. He looked at them, thinking of dry leave on a tree, or sea-weed swaying with the tide. 

He was trying not to do something. What was he trying not to do?

Jemma looked peaceful. Her eyes were half-closed, and, like Skye, she was hugging a toy to her chest. That fluffy bunny, the one she'd carried around for so long. It had a name, a name that felt like a berry in his mouth. Skye made a soft sound through her nose. She looked sleepy too. No one was eating the crackers. He saw her raise her left hand to her mouth, her thumb tracing her lips. It's OK, Leo thought. You're tired. 

He leant against her side. It was nice to feel her warmth, slipping into his own limbs. He'd been cold for months: that was why he couldn't stop trembling. His mind felt unsteady because it was cold too. 

“You're sleepy,” Skye said, and touched his cheek gently. He didn't flinch away from the touch. “We could lie down for a minute. It's OK.” 

He shouldn't let her. He shouldn't let himself... He didn't need to be comforted.... 

But Skye was closing the laptop, and the pillow was warm under his cheek. He felt Jemma getting into bed beside him. She was cool, and Skye was warm, and his eyes were shutting. He could feel the ocean rising, but he didn't mind being obliterated. He was warm, and for once he felt calm. His mind was clear. 

*

Skye felt a hand gently smoothing down her hair. It was an effort to open her eyes, but May's warm gaze met her own. “Mommy,” she murmured, pleased, wanting to reach out to her, to bury herself in May's arms.

“I'm glad you took a nap,” May said. “You looked tired.” 

Skye pulled herself upright. She hadn't meant to sleep. She'd just meant to hang out with Fitz for a little while to give him some space. He was waking up, too, rubbing his eyes. He looked like he didn't want to wake, like being here was an unpleasant shock. Skye knew that feeling. 

“It's OK, Leo,” May said gently. “You both just drifted off. Do you want some water?” 

For a moment, Leo's face looked focused, and then his attention flickered away. “I have to... The lab, do the... the... Yeah, that.” He sighed. 

“You can take a break.” Skye put her hand on his arm. She wished she could cuddle up against him like she'd have done with Jemma. Sometimes he seemed to respond to her warmly, but mostly he went stiff and turned away. 

He relaxed at her touch, but only briefly. “Mack's in the lab,” Skye said. “He's keeping things under control.” 

“Mack,” Leo repeated. “Yeah. I'll go... with Mack.” 

He struggled out of bed. He looked awkward for a moment, gangly and uncoordinated, though his gross motor skills had improved hugely since the injury. Skye wanted to reach and grab him, to steady him, but she remained on the bed. Fitz's face was creased with sleep as well as worry. Did he sleep much at night? She'd found him in his bunk on the Bus a few times, but he was always staring at the ceiling or squeezing a stress ball. 

“I'll walk you to the lab,” May said. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“Always... always asking me if I've eaten...” He twisted his hands. “Yeah, I know she cares, but it's still... still...” 

Skye looked away. “Come on, Fitz,” May said gently, and he followed. 

The bed was still warm where Leo had been lying. Skye smoothed his pillow gently, feeling its warmth, reminding herself that he'd been here, that he was with them. Even if he wasn't the same. She felt tired, fuzzy around the edges, but she didn't want to be still, either. She'd worked out this morning, but she and May hadn't trained yet today. She went to the bathroom and changed into her work-out gear. She felt oddly embarrassed that May had caught her napping. 

She'd been sleeping badly, but napping was something she'd done before. Before, before they'd come here, when Coulson had still been the one to tell her she needed to lie down, when she had shared beds with him and May, when Jemma had been her best friend. There wasn't time for that now. 

May never complained about them sharing a bed. She'd even said she wanted Skye there. But Skye still worried she'd get sick of it. It didn't seem fair that May had to look after her on top of everything else. 

Skye imagined trying to sleep on her own. Sleeping without May's warmth, sleeping without her special blanket, not wearing a pull-up at night and still waking up dry. Like a real adult. It felt impossible, and her stomach went cold. 

She was glad when May came back. She found it really hard to calm down, to feel herself, when May wasn't with her. She'd been trying to keep some distance lately. She was afraid May would think she was crowding her. But she never managed to stay away for long, and so far May hadn't complained. 

“How was he?” Skye asked. 

“It's hard to tell. He seemed a little calmer when he saw Mack.”

“Good. God knows we don't seem to help.” 

May sat next to her on the edge of the bed. “He's trying.”

“I know.” Skye rubbed her face. “I'm not mad at him. I just want to help. I wish he could be more open with us.” 

May didn't say anything. She put her hand on Skye's shoulder, and Skye wanted to press into the touch. She wanted to wrap herself around May, hide her face in May's chest and whisper, “Mommy,” and have May make everything OK. But she didn't do any of those things. 

“We should train,” Skye said. “I mean, if you're ready.” 

“Always.” May stood up, and held out her hand to Skye. “See if you can keep up, baby.”

*

The work-out usually calmed her, but today she felt tense, her muscles tight and her eyes hot, her brain buzzing. May went to talk to Coulson and Skye ate dinner with Mack and Tripp. Her stomach felt tense and she only wanted to eat ice-cream, but she knew she needed to get some proper calories. She wished May were there to help her eat and remind her about finishing her vegetables, but it wasn't fair to need that from her too. 

“Do you see Leo eating?” Skye asked Mack. 

“He does eat,” Mack said. “It takes him a while, he looses concentration. But I don't think he's starving or anything.”

“I keep trying to make him snacks but he doesn't want them.” Skye picked at her sandwich. “When he first woke up, he had so much trouble with coordination, and I know that made eating hard. But he's a lot better. I wish he could see that.”

She felt like she'd said too much. She wasn't sure she should share Fitz's history with Mack, and she stuffed a corner of her sandwich into her mouth so she wouldn't have to speak again. 

“He just doesn't want you to fuss over him,” Tripp said.

“I know.” Skye sighed, looking at her salad. She wished she didn't want someone to fuss over her, either. 

She asked Tripp a question about training to change the subject. Bread felt clothy in her mouth, and she got herself a glass of milk. Pouring it from the container made her remember Coulson nagging her to finish her milk, him teasing her and saying she wouldn't grow up to be a big and strong Agent without it. They used to always eat together. 

May was still upstairs. Skye knew she shouldn't go up there without being asked, but she felt lonely. Anxious again. Even if May had work to do, Skye could sit with her. She could use her laptop, maybe work on the code Coulson had given her. She could rest her head on May's thigh, and May would stroke her hair, and Skye would feel safe. 

When she'd finished eating, Skye meant to go and hang out with Tripp, but she ended up sitting oat the bottom of the stairs leading to Coulson's office. She played with her phone. Her thumb kept working its way towards her mouth, even though she knew she shouldn't suck it where someone might see. But the room was quiet. She slipped it into her mouth briefly, for one little comforting suck, hooking her fingers over her nose. It turned into a lot of comforting sucks. She wished she had her blanket. She thought of curling up on Coulson's knee with her head against his chest, his heart beneath her ear. Then she heard footsteps, and she ripped her thumb out of her mouth so quickly it hurt. 

It was Lance. He hadn't seen her yet, and she didn't want him to. Her tummy hurt, and she felt cold and alone on the bottom step. Was it really so wrong to want Mommy and Daddy? She slid backwards, up onto the next step, and then scrambled up the stairs to the office. 

The door was closed. She knocked once, but no one said anything—no one told her to come in, but no one told her to go away either. She pushed the door open. 

Daddy—Coulson, she reminded herself—was there, barefoot, sitting on the chair by his desk. He looked tired. May was putting her camera away. “It was longer...” she began in a soft voice, and then she saw Skye. 

“You should knock,” she said. Her tone was stern, but not angry. 

Coulson's head snapped around. He looked pale, and very tense, but she still wasn't expecting it when he snapped, “Skye! Get out!” 

She was frozen for a second. Daddy was _yelling_... 

And then she remembered she wasn't supposed to be here, and she was grown-up, and she shouldn't need to crawl into their laps. Her face felt hot, and her throat. “I'm sorry, sir,” she choked out, and turned around. 

She made herself walk downstairs, not run. A grown-up would walk. A grown-up wouldn't be afraid. 

“Let you see him, did he?” Lance said when he spotted her, but she didn't reply. Her vision blurred. She rushed past him, through the common room, and once she was in the hall, she did start to run. She couldn't help herself. Her breath was hot, and her legs felt wobbly. 

The bedroom was just as she'd left it: her laptop on the table, her elephant and blanket on the bed. She grabbed the elephant and threw it at the wall. It was a child's toy, and she shouldn't have it.

She shouldn't sleep here at all, in fact. She yanked open the top drawer, and pulled out her t-shirts. There was a bag of pull-ups in there too, half-full, and she pulled it out and held it in trembling fingers. She'd wet the bed last night. She wet the bed almost every night, and she needed Mommy or Daddy there to make it OK... 

She was crying, her ribs trembling, sobs catching rough in her throat. She sank to the floor, pressing her hand to her mouth. Her lips felt raw. She shouldn't cry, it wasn't OK, she needed to pack, she needed to show them she was strong. Maybe they'd make her leave. Maybe Daddy would make Fitz leave too, say he couldn't have broken Agents around, and they'd have to look after each other. Skye wasn't sure she'd know how to look after both of them, but she'd have to. 

She wanted her blanket. She rocked herself. Get it together, Skye, she thought. You need to pack. Maybe they won't be mad if you show you can manage by yourself. 

There was a warm hand on the back of her neck. She shivered, startled, the tremor going all through her body, and sobbed again. May's hand maintained a steady pressure. 

“I've got you,” May said. “I've got you.”

“I'm sorry,” Skye said, her voice catching between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry.” 

She didn't know why she was sorry. She was sorry for crying, she was sorry for being here, she was sorry for everything being wrong. 

“Look at me,” May said, and Skye peeked up through her bangs, her eyes glazed with tears. May's eyes were steady. She put her hand on Skye's cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing.” 

Skye squirmed. She wasn't sure she believed what May had said, and she hid her face in her hands again. Her tears leaked out. Then she felt May sit next to her, and May's arm around her shoulders. 

“It's OK to cry,” May said, kissing the top of her head. “It's OK. It happens. I'm here to look after you.”

Skye melted against May. She couldn't help herself. She curled into the side of May's body, pressing her face against May's chest, her fingers fisting in May's shirt. May held her calmly. Skye didn't want to let herself go like this. She wanted to show she could be strong. But May was so gentle and Skye wanted the safety so badly. 

“I didn't mean to upset Daddy,” Skye whispered. _Daddy._ She should've said Coulson. 

“He didn't mean to upset you either,” May said. “He's very stressed right now.” 

Skye nodded. She rubbed at her face with her hand. “I'm getting your shirt wet.” 

“I know.” May went to get some tissues so Skye could clean up a little. In those few moments when Skye wasn't being held, she felt trembly again.

May encouraged Skye off the cold floor, and they sat on the bed together. Skye wanted to hold onto May's arm, to keep her right here. May touched Skye's chin, tilting her head up, and gently dried her face. Skye blew her nose. She could still feel tears in her throat, little shivery sobs, but she knew May wouldn't be mad if she started crying again. Skye felt like nothing she could do would surprise May: that whatever happened, May could look after her. 

“Baby,” May said softly, when Skye had curled back into her arms. “Was there a reason you came up to us? Did you need something?”

Skye felt embarrassed. “I just wanted Mommy,” she said at last, voice raspy. “I was scared. I'm sorry.” 

May sighed. Her arms were tight around Skye, pulling her close. “It's been overwhelming lately, hasn't it?” 

She whimpered in response, just a little. “I don't feel safe unless I'm with you or Daddy. And he...” 

“I know.” May rocked her. “You haven't done anything wrong. I'll talk to Coulson some more.” 

Skye didn't know how to respond to that. She felt so little, suddenly. She hardly even felt this little at night any more. She felt like she'd shut it all away, like maybe she was finally growing up. But now she felt like she'd sunk, and she didn't know how to make it better. She was crying quietly again. Her mouth tasted like salt. 

“You're very overwhelmed,” May said, steady. “It's the bad dreams you've been having lately. You're under a lot of stress. I'm going to get you changed into your pyjamas and a diaper. I'll give you a bottle, and then you can nurse it until you fall asleep. And in the morning, we can talk some more, or play, or whatever you want.” 

Skye clung to May's hands. She still wanted to apologise. She felt naked, and afraid, and she didn't know why she couldn't just keep it all inside herself. 

“It's OK,” May said. “We'll sleep, and we'll both feel better.” She ran her cool fingers over Skye's hot cheeks. “I like having a good little girl to hug at night. I'd never want you anywhere else.” 

Skye tried to believe her. She pressed into the touch. 

*

She woke calmer. May was curled around her, her hand on Skye's hip. Skye's blanket was tucked under her chin, her thumb by her lips. She could see her bottle on the bedside table, empty, reflecting the night-light. She didn't want to move. May was breathing slowly beside her. Skye wasn't sure what time it was. The diaper between her legs felt different from a pull-up: warmer, and more bulky. She'd wet it, but the wetness wasn't unpleasant just now. It all made her feel small and safe and protected. 

Her face was still sore from crying. Poor May, Skye thought. I'm so much work. 

But now it was easier to believe that May loved her. That May wanted to look after her. She remembered, long ago, May telling her how much she liked it when Skye was little. She remembered May's patience, and the way May held her in the mornings as though she didn't want to let go. 

Skye put her hand over May's. I'll look after May too, Skye thought. I'll make sure she eats and sleeps enough. And we'll be OK. 

She felt May move next to her, a slow sigh. She felt May's lips against her neck. “Have you been awake long?”

“Uh-uh.” Skye squirmed backwards, snuggling closer into May's embrace. 

“Good.” May yawned. “We were both tired out. I think you should start having naps regularly. When we can make time.” 

“You should have naps too,” Skye said. 

“I don't get sleepy like you do.” 

May was sitting up. “Don't go,” Skye murmured, groping for her hand. 

May laughed. “I'll be back. Some of us aren't wearing a diaper, and have to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Skye leant back against the pillow. She felt a little hot at the mention of her diaper. Did May know she'd wet it? May always seemed to know everything. 

When May came back, she let Skye curl into her arms again, for a little while. “I'm so clingy,” Skye said. 

“I know.” May smoothed her hair. “I like it when you're clingy. But you've been trying too hard to be big. I think if we build in some more little time, you'll feel a less overwhelmed.” 

“What about you?” Skye asked. 

“Do I need more little time?” May laughed. 

Skye raised her head from its position on May's chest. “No, Mommy. Do you feel overwhelmed?” 

“Not now,” May said. “Now when I've got you.” 

May brought in breakfast, and made sure Skye ate toast and fruit, and milk. Afterwards, Skye showered by herself, and dressed in her normal clothes. She tied back her hair, her hands feeling light and floaty. I won't need to cry today, she thought. May and I will look after each other, and things will be better. 

“I'll see you in the gym in thirty minutes,” May told her, and it helped Skye to know they wouldn't be apart for long. 

She went up to the lab: Fitz was already there, and Mack. They were pouring over a design together. 

“Morning,” Skye said. 

Leo looked up at her, and she could see a trace of his old smile. In the past, he'd always been glad to see her. 

“Can I sit with you guys for a while?” she asked, keeping her eyes on him. 

“If you... if you want,” Leo said. “We're...”

“We could always use a fresh pair of eyes,” Mack said. 

Skye nodded. She touched Leo's arm gently. “Hope you slept OK,” she said. 

“Yeah... yeah... Course I did,” he snapped, but he didn't pull his hand away. I'll fuss over him if I want to, Skye thought. They were a family. She didn't care if she annoyed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to S02E03
> 
> I loved the episode, but this fic turned out a little sad.

JEMMA

Fitz never smiled these days. Jemma did nothing but. 

_Run, run, run on the treadmill. Keep fit. Keep moving. Remember you're in the field now. (“I wouldn't ask you to do this if there was anyone else.” “I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could handle it.”) Never forget where you are. Never forget to smile. Run. Run when you wake up, run so you forget you're afraid. (“We need you, Agents Simmons.” “You're doing so well.”) Run. Run._

Yes, she'd said. She'd been proud. Proud that they believe in her. She couldn't breathe on the base. The corridors were huge but there still wasn't any space. She was finished with being locked in the dark. Here, when she woke in the morning, she could see sky. 

_Run. Run. When you stop running, start smiling. (Skye thinks I've abandoned her.) Smile. (Leo is so alone.) Look at the samples. Look at the other Hydra operatives. Smile. Smile. (“I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could handle it.”)_

The days piling up, but never getting quicker. The days that seemed to go on for months. _Run. Run. Smile. Walk. Smile._ The microscopes. The feeling of slides under her hands. That feeling, at least, was familiar. Answering to Ms Simmons. ( _“You're doing so well..”_ ) Sometimes she's look up and see Skye, just for a moment, Skye hunched over a computer, Skye reminding her she was terrible at lying. _(Smile._ ) And then she'd remember where she was. 

It was worse when she saw ocean, ocean and ocean with no way to the surface. She'd feel the black depth of it crushing her, and she'd have to press her face to the window, any window. It was worse again when she saw Fitz. 

_Smile. **Smile.** _

May had shown her how to hold a gun. Right before the mission began. In the dark of the shooting range, with no one around. May's hands on her, touches quick and deliberate. _Like this. Here. Like this. Breathe. Do it again. Practice._ When she held the gun now, she thought of May. May would want her to come back. May would want her to defend herself. 

Some mornings she woke with the memory of sharing a bed with Skye and May, and how they never had enough room, and it was always too hot, but she felt so safe. Skye snuffled in her ear, and May's fingers would be cool on her arm. She'd remember, but she never for a moment believed she was anywhere but here. _Smile. Run. You don't have time for bad dreams._

That morning she woke with Fitz in her head, Fitz leaning into Phil's shoulder by the pool, the water sparkling around their feet. Water. Back when swimming was fun. Fitz, her Leo, trying so hard to be strong, trying not to be vulnerable, and then slowly relaxing against Phil, while she sat next to them and thought: it's going to be OK. We're going to be happy now. 

Smile. It slid off her face when she pulled the gun from her bag. She bit her lips. She probably shouldn't smile when she was trying to defend herself. That would be odd. 

“Did you think I wouldn't find out?”

She sank against the door frame, looking at Phil. Phil. She was smiling again but it was real, and she could feel her body trembling, not from nerves, but from the absence of nerves. She'd had no idea she was carrying so much tension, and now it was gone, she was with Phil, and she felt like she might slide to the floor like melted butter. 

Phil did most of the talking. She answered his questions, but her mouth didn't run away from her. She mostly just looked at him. His clean shirt, creased at the back, his familiar hands, the lines on his face. 

She was awkward after dinner. She wasn't sure if she could ask for what she needed. Did he know? He probably knew. “Do you want coffee?” she asked. 

“You've had enough coffee for one day,” he said, as though he'd been monitoring every cup she drank, and disapproving. That thought was strangely reassuring. 

“Will you...” Jemma groped for words. “Will you stay the night?” 

Phil stood up and leant against the table next to her. He cupped her cheek with his hand. She felt small next to him, with him standing above her like that. She leant into his touch, relishing the feeling that she was little and he was tall, and he could protect her. “I'll stay until you fall asleep,” he said. 

“OK.” She leant towards him and he put his arms around her, so she was leaning against his stomach, her face in his shirt. She felt soft all over, exhausted, like she'd been running for hours and had finally stopped. 

“Go get ready for bed,” Phil said. “I'll come in to check on you.”

She had some of her little things around the apartment (“What if Hydra finds them?” she's said to Phil, when he told her she could bring them. “If all Hydra think you're hiding is a little side, I'd say that's pretty good cover, wouldn't you?”), including the tiger Phil had given her, some dummies, some childish pyjamas. It wasn't much and she didn't pick those things up often. She was acting, and the woman she was acting wasn't vulnerable like that. She'd left her most precious toy, Ben Bunny, with Phil, to keep safe. It was hard to sleep without it him, but it made it easier to pretend. 

In the bathroom, she took of her make-up and smoothed down her hair. She put on soft pyjamas, blue ones. Skye had exactly the same ones: they'd bought them together, because it was nice to be the same. She took out a blue dummy too, because she liked to be coordinated, and sat on the bed with her tiger. 

Phil brought a bottle, half-full of milk, and set it beside her clock-radio. “I don't need that,” Jemma protested, because it had been so long, and it did feel weird somehow, and she thought of bottles as mostly being for Skye. 

“You look nice,” Phil said. “I remember those pyjamas.” He sat on the bed. Every time he visited, she'd thought it would be difficult, that she wouldn't be able to sink back into this, but she always did. She slid into his arms, resting her head on his chest, and for a long time they were still. Jemma could hear his heart, and her own. It had been so long since some part of her wasn't running. 

When Phil picked up the bottle and guided it towards her mouth, she didn't protest. She shut her eyes, and breathed in the scent of Phil's shirt, and sucked slowly. The teat of the bottle was soft in her mouth, and the milk slid down her throat almost with her noticing it. He'd only given her a bottle a few times before, but it still felt comforting, and familiar. She imagined she was somewhere else—the motel, the Bus—and that Leo was playing cards with May, and Skye was asleep next to them, and they were all warm and safe. She felt, for a moment, suspended in time, like all that existed was this: Phil's warmth, the bottle, the bed. 

Phil was stroking her hair. “When I'm not here, sweetheart, and you can't sleep, and it's hard to relax, I want you to make yourself a bottle just like this, and play a song from the CD I've left, OK?” He drew in a breath, long and slow. “You're not alone.”

“OK,” Jemma said, letting the bottle slip out of her mouth, nuzzling as close to him as she could. 

After a little while, he eased her down onto the pillow. He found her dummy and slid it into her mouth for her, and she sucked slowly. She felt herself drifting. She was so tired, but she didn't want to sleep, she wanted to savour every moment with him. 

She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, Phil was leaving. She didn't mean to say anything, but, sleepy, she whispered, “Don't. Don't go.”

“Go back to sleep,” he said, and smoothed her hair again, and gave her the tiger. She clung to it. She heard her bedroom door shut, and then, more distantly, the door to her apartment. She didn't move. She was sleepy. 

When her alarm went off, it didn't feel like much time had passed. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, putting down the tiger, hiding the dummy back in its drawer. She didn't want to move. She didn't think she could move. She felt like she was made of lead. 

She turned up the volume on the radio. She focused on the song. _Smile. Run. Run. Smile. Start again._

LEO

He remembered... 

He remembered...

He remembered how greasy the oven was, when he took it apart the first time. How the grease had got under his nails, into the whirls of his palm. He remembered fixing all the old radios, even the valve radio in his grandparent's house they just kept because it was handsome. He remembered his first job in a garage, working with car engines for the first time. He remembered how he'd lied and said he was older, and how his mother had been cross because he hadn't told her what he was doing. He remembered her taking the money he gave her anyway, and how she cried over the sink. 

He remembered that feeling. That he was trying so hard to do the right thing, but it was somehow the wrong thing. He remembered... 

And he woke up remembering: chemical smell under his fingers, Simmons laughing because he was afraid of dead things, getting drunk at the academy and puking into a bin. But sometimes he woke up and forgot where he was, even when he slept in his old bunk on the Bus. He would lie still and listen for the sound of Radio 2 in the kitchen, the smell of his mother's instant coffee, or he'd get up and expect to see Ward fresh from the gym, in a sweat-stained t-shirt, and then he'd stand for a long time and realise he didn't hear engines. Realise that everything was gone. 

He didn't forget for long. Maybe it was better when he did. 

Other times he slept in his bed at the base, in the room that seemed too big and too small at once, and woke reaching across the bed for someone who wasn't there. He'd sit for a long time, feeling alone, wondering how he was going to make himself stand up. Beside the bed, Jemma had left a stack of books, weeks ago, months ago: physics mostly, and a couple of novels. Novels Jemma had chosen, which meant they'd been written in approximately 1760, and they definitely weren't as hilarious as she said they were. And on top of the books, the stupid dinosaur Skye had got for him. 

He had the monkey too. It lay next to him in the bed, staring with button eyes. Sometimes when he woke, he'd look at it, and he wouldn't know where he was, but he'd know he was still _him_ , because the monkey had always been there. 

He'd lie and look at the books and the toys, and the memories would rise, tangled together, and he'd know. He would eat by himself, he was stiff in the morning, his hands were less easy to control, and he didn't want the others to see that. 

Routine. 

Simmons always liked to have routine, and he'd gone along with her. Maybe he liked routine too, because she was gone and he kept doing the same things at the same times, or as close to it as he could manage. Mack was the uncertain factor: sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he was outside talking to a scruffy white field agent whose name Fitz kept forgetting. Sometimes he was just gone. 

When he was there, work was easier. Leo sometimes wished it wasn't: needing people seemed like a bad idea. Everyone was afraid to look at him, and he didn't want to need them. Mack, at least, was different. 

Coulson wouldn't look at him either. When he couldn't sleep, he remembered lying next to Coulson in a bed, with Jemma on his other side, sucking her stupid dummy. She'd been almost asleep. Coulson had said something like, “You're fine just the way you are,” and Leo had wanted to sink into the bed, into him and Jemma, and never leave. And he'd also wanted to stand up and tell them they were both freaks and he wasn't having anything to do with it. 

He was in the lab: he looked at the clock. It was the right time to be in the lab. That was good, but his hands shook over his tablet. The screen flashed up the wrong design, and he couldn't remember the right design, and he dropped it with a clatter. Coulson might not look at him, but Skye did. Skye was always inviting him back to her room, putting on TV shows, trying to hug him. If he'd wanted, he could have slid into her warmth, hers and May's. He could have had as much comfort as he wanted. 

But he didn't want comfort. He wanted... He wanted to... be the same. 

“He... he... looked at me,” Leo said to Coulson's retreating back. Ward. Ward had looked at him. Ward hadn't looked away. 

Coulson stopped. 

“You don't,” Leo said. “Even if you see my...” The word. Coulson had just said. He noticed Leo's... Leo didn't know. “You don't look,” he finished. If Coulson knew about him, it was all from reading reports. 

“I'm looking now,” Coulson said, turning around. He looked tired: like an overworked bureaucrat. Like somebody else's dad, one of the dads Leo had seen on the bus in the mornings when he was a kid, and wished were his own. 

Leo brought his fist to his mouth. His chest felt tight suddenly. He didn't know what to say. He thought maybe he was wrong. He didn't want anyone to look at him after all. 

Phil took a step closer. “You've been doing so well. It's good to see you working with Mack. You've helped us so many times.”

Leo looked at his knees. “No.”

“No?”

“I'm damaged, I'm not doing well, I'm...” The Jemma in his head appeared suddenly, standing by his chair. She was smiling. She was always smiling. “You are doing well, Fitz,” she said. 

Leo shook his head. “No. No I'm not.” 

“Hey, look at me.” Phil was kneeling suddenly, on the floor in front of Leo. It was confusing to have Coulson right there, so close to him, eyes on his face. 

“Be polite,” Jemma said, kind, all smiles. 

Leo shook his head. “You're not here.”

“I am here.” Coulson took Leo's hand. His grip was firm, almost like a handshake, but Leo liked the pressure. He focused on it, the grip. He bent his head. He could hear Phil's breath, feel his warmth. He was remembering a swimming-pool, sunshine, resting his head on Phil's shoulder. “It's OK,” Phil said, gently. 

Leo shook his head. He could feel Jemma behind him. He could hear some of the equipment vibrating as it detected a resonant frequency. But inside his head it seemed to all be black spaces, silent corridors: he couldn't find his way. He slumped forward, like he was made of jelly and couldn't hold himself up any more. 

His forehead met Coulson's shoulder. Coulson let go of his hand, and put his arms around Leo's torso. Leo leant into him, leant into the touch. He'd been working so hard on not leaning, on not letting anyone hold him, on not letting go, and he just couldn't any more. He just couldn't hold himself apart. Not from Coulson. 

Coulson's voice sounded choked. “I've got you. I've got you.”

Leo pressed his nose into Phil's shirt, and believed him. 

SKYE

Skye wasn't crying when Melinda got to her. She was sitting on the floor, her eyes blank, glassy. Her breath was even. 

“Baby,” Melinda said, very softly, surprising herself by the anxiety in her voice. She bent down by Skye, and touched her face. Skye didn't move. Melinda noticed, then, that Skye's pants were wet, a puddle spreading on the ground around her. “It's OK,” Melinda reassured. “Don't worry about it.”

Skye's voice seemed to come from very far away. “61 beats,” she said, holding up her wrist. “I'm OK.”

Melinda leant her forehead against Skye's. “You're not OK,” she said. 

“61 beats,” Skye repeated. “I am.” 

“Heart-rate isn't everything.” Melinda wished Skye would lean into her touch, but Skye was holding herself stiff, apart. 

“Did you hear what Ward said?” 

“Coulson and I caught the end of it. You shouldn't talk to him without asking us.” 

Skye shrugged. “I'm OK.” 

Melinda sat back on her heels. “You're wet.”

Skye looked down at herself, and touched the wet patch on her thigh, as though she hadn't realised it was there. “Oh, god,” she murmured, and looked up at May. Her eyes suddenly looked more focused. “I didn't...” 

It helped to have something practical she could do to help. Melinda didn't know how to talk about this. She thought Skye did need to talk about it, but Phil was the talker. Instead, she helped Skye to her feet, and held her hand. Skye staggered, as though her feet didn't want to hold her, and murmured, “Oh, shit,” and Melinda saw her eyes growing wet, her breath coming more quickly. 

In their bedroom, she helped Skye undress. Skye stood naked from the waist down, wet pants tangled around her feet, hugging herself. “Do you want to shower?” Melinda asked. 

Skye shrugged, and then said, “No...” like she wasn't sure. 

Melinda helped her wash instead, with a warm cloth, and then dressed her in a pull-up and pyjama pants. As though that would make everything better. Skye sat on the edge of the bed, head down, gripping her knees. “I'm OK,” she said. 

“You don't have to be. Not always. Not now.” 

“I want to talk to Coulson,” Skye said. 

Melinda nodded. “Do you want to talk to him now?”

“He doesn't want to talk to me.” Skye's voice was distant, and sure. Melinda could understand why she felt that way. She took Skye's hand again, her fingers settling over Skye's wrist. 

“He's...”

“Busy, I know,” Skye cut in. She leant her head on Melinda's shoulder. “I know, Mommy.” 

The _Mommy_ made Melinda feel better, even though Skye's voice still seemed to come from miles away, from a distant place within her. “Do you want to talk to me?” 

Skye shrugged. “I don't know yet.” Her voice cracked. “Can I... Can I just...” She didn't finished the sentence, but she pressed her head against Melinda's shoulder, and Melinda hugged her. 

She was warm in Melinda's arms, heavy on Melinda's thigh, and she smelt like honey and warm water. Melinda pulled her close, closer, realising she was clinging to Skye in the same way Skye clung to her blanket. She wanted to hug and protect her little girl as much, maybe more than, Skye wanted it from her. It made Melinda feel vulnerable, and a little frightened. She rocked Skye in her arms, and felt Skye's muscles relax against her, Skye becoming soft and pliant. “Baby,” Melinda whispered into her hair, almost reverently “Baby girl.” 

Nothing was solved. But at least Melinda was holding her. At least, for a moment, they were safe. 

*

May was with Skye. Phil focused on that. He'd seen Skye's face, too, over the cameras, as her heart began to race, and she'd crumpled. He'd seen it, and it had hurt not to go to her. He'd ached with wanting to go. Instead, he'd sat at his desk, letting May take care of it. 

You're too close, Phil, he thought, over and over. You're too close. He didn't want Skye to need him. He had to keep sending them into danger. Jemma, lost within Hydra, and lying so soft and vulnerable in his arms and asking him not to leave her. Leo, choking for breath, sternly telling Phil to look at him. And Skye... Skye not asking for anything at all. Crying, alone, open and wet, and not asking for anything. 

At least Melinda was with her. Melinda loved her. Melinda was better than he was. 

He thought if he held Skye again, if he relaxed for just one moment and held her like he used to, he'd never let her go. He'd never send her on another mission. And he couldn't let that happen. They needed her too much. 

The cameras didn't monitor any of the bedrooms, but they were in the corridors outside. Even though Melinda's door remained closed, Phil kept flicking back to it in the security footage. Watching it. Glad that the door was closed, because it meant Skye was safe behind it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to S02E04. [I'm not at home right now and don't have as much computer access as usual, so apologies if this is a little rough.]

When Skye found Leo, he was pacing awkwardly, in a tight circle, like a trapped animal. He was in the old lab, the one that had become a storage room. His hands shook. He was talking, but not to her. She listened. She could discern half a conversation, like overhearing someone on the phone. 

Skye wanted to take Leo’s shaking hands in her own to ease the tremor. As she watched, they shook harder, flapping. “Fitz?” she asked, her voice soft. He looked at her, and then looked away, his vision unfocused. 

“Fitz, it’s OK,” Skye said. She wondered what Jemma would do. She walked over to him, to his corner. Fitz stopped, and looked at the ground, hands twisting at his sides. Skye didn’t know if it was a tremor stemming from his injury or if it was anxiety. She wasn’t sure he’d like it if she grabbed his hands. Instead, she put her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t pull away either. 

“You did so well, Fitz,” Skye said. “Honestly. I’m so glad you were there.” 

“I...” Leo shook his hands, stared at them, and shook them again. “I...”

“Is it harder to talk now?” Skye asked. 

Leo nodded. 

“That’s OK.”

Leo brought his hands up to his face, pressing his palms against his eyes. His fingers drummed against his forehead. 

“It’s not OK?” Skye tried. She wanted to draw him closer. He was warm, his breath rough. 

“Yeah...” Leo said. “That.” 

“You’re frustrated?” Skye suggested. It felt weird to put words in his mouth, but she’d been trying not to do that for months with no headway. 

Leo nodded. He took his hands off his face and reached out to Skye instead, his fingers on her forearms. It was like a weird hug. Skye moved forward, closer to him, and he didn’t pull away. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered against his shoulder. She let her arms go around him. 

There was a snorting sound. She looked up, and realised Leo was laughing. “Makes... makes two of us,” he said. 

“I guess so. Remember when we never shut up?”

“And Simmons,” Leo agreed. 

Skye rubbed his back. He hadn’t let her touch him like this before. Not for a long time, anyway. He made a faint choking sound. She could feel his hands, against her back now, still trembling. “And Simmons,” Skye said. “I worry about her.” 

Leo sighed—one of those sighs that was almost a sob. Skye knew that sound: she’d been sighing like that a lot recently herself. “It’s cold in here,” she said. “It’s lonely.”  
“You shouldn’t have...” Leo’s hand fluttered against her back. “You...”

Skye pulled back from him. She nibbled her lip. “We changed it without asking you.” 

Leo shrugged. 

“I guess we didn’t think about it.” She sighed. “Everything is different.” 

“My...” A long stretch. The pause was tense, Leo’s lips twisting slightly, as though he was desperately fighting the silence. “...bunk.” 

“Your bunk’s the same?” Skye asked. 

“Yeah. We should... if you’re cold.” 

“Go to your bunk?” Skye nodded. “OK.” It wasn’t like she’d never been there before. She’d watched TV with him before in there, and discussed strategies with him, and once had a brief, whispered conversation about whether or not Jemma was mad at her. 

It was warmer in Leo’s bunk, and it did look almost the same. “You have a bedroom in the base too, right?” Skye asked. “More space?”

She knew he did. She wasn’t sure why she asked. She guessed she might hide in her old bunk too, if she wasn’t sharing with May. 

Leo sat on the bed. His hands had slowed down, and were folded over his knee. He reached under his pillow, and pulled out the careworn monkey. Skye knew he was usually furtive when he touched it, or acted like he didn’t care about it, but now he hugged it gently to his chest. Skye sat down next to him, close, closer than he would’ve allowed her to be before. She leant her head on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug her off. 

“Everything’s going to be OK, Leo,” Skye said softly. She only called him by his first name when he was little, same with Jemma, though lately she never thought of them by their surnames. 

“Is it?” Leo said. He stoked the monkey. “Does Coulson still look after you?” 

Skye swallowed. She hadn’t expected him to ask that. She hadn’t expected him to touch on the thing that hurt her the most. It didn’t seem fair. 

Leo seemed to sense her resistance. He touched her knee, fingers so light and awkward it was almost like being tickled. “Last week he came and said... And I was angry and he...” A pause, but a different sort of pause. Leo wasn’t searching for words, he was embarrassed. “He hugged me.” 

Skye sighed, leaning into him. “I’m glad.” 

“But... not you?”

“I’m glad he cares about one of us,” Skye said. She brought her thumb to her lips, but didn’t suck it, just let it rest there. “May said he visits Jemma too.” 

“He...” Leo put his hand on hers. “He loves you the most.” 

“He doesn’t,” Skye said, because he didn’t. She needed him too much. She took up too much of everyone’s time. She wanted too much from him. It was amazing, really, that May was still willing to look after her. Of course Coulson found her too hard. It had happened before, with the foster Moms. If she woke them up with nightmares and a wet bed once, twice, they were OK. They could handle it. But she always woke them too many times. She was always too broken. 

Leo sighed, pressing his hands to his face in frustration. He was holding the monkey, and two brown paws pressed against his face as well. “He does.” 

Skye wanted to hug him again. She thought maybe Hunter and Mack had been planning to hang out with Leo, to bond with beer, and she should let him go have friends. But it was Leo’s choice and he seemed to want to be here with her. And it had been a long time since he’d wanted her. He could have beer later. He looked vulnerable and young and her chest hurt so much from thinking about Coulson. 

“May says that too. That he loves me,” she said quietly. She squirmed closer to Leo, lacing her arm around his back. She slid her left thumb into her mouth, hoping Leo wouldn’t mind, hoping that was the right thing to do. 

Leo smiled slightly. He didn’t hug her, but he dropped one hand, and put it on her knee. The other remained at his face: he was pressing the monkey against his lip, the way Skye sometimes held her blanket. “May is always right,” he said. 

*

Skye might have agreed with him, but Melinda wouldn’t. She sat facing Phil, tired, worn-down, aching from the fight. She didn’t want to ask him, but in the end, she did. “What about Skye?” 

“What about her?” 

“Are you going to see her?” 

“She’s been working on the alien language all day. She doesn’t need my help.” 

Melinda sighed. “That’s not what I meant.” She wasn’t sure if she should bring this up. 

Phil looked at her. “She’ll be OK without me.” 

It wasn’t Agent May’s business whether or not Director Coulson was giving Agent Skye the attention she wanted. But Skye was her little girl, and it was completely Melinda’s business when that little girl was hurt. “She has nightmares every night. She thinks you don’t want her because she’s too much work.” 

“May...” Phil looked at his hands. His trembling hands. He was care-worn and reaching the edges of himself and was, in his own way, frightened. Melinda knew all that.   
And yet, she said, “You’ll be sorry if you don’t spend time with her while you can. You love her.”

But Phil was drifting away from her. She’d brought up Skye before, and every time she spoke, he seemed to slip further and further away from her. She guessed he thought that it would be better for Skye, if he went the way of Garrett, if they weren’t close. He didn’t want to influence her. He didn’t want her to know he had nightmares, too.   
But he was wrong about all of it. 

“You took her in,” Melinda said softly. She knew she was pushing. She knew he didn’t want to hear it. But he made her talk about things she didn’t want to discuss either. “You can’t push her away.”

He finally looked at her. He was trembling again, just slightly, and his face was hollow. “May,” he said. “She has you.”

So Melinda didn’t push any further. She sighed. She stood up, and touched Phil’s shoulder once, a brief, comradely slap that he didn’t deserve. She wanted to shake him until he saw sense. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to make everything go away. Skye wasn’t the only one who sat on the Bus and pretended nothing had changed. But she didn’t do any of those things. 

She went to find her little girl. 

*

They were still sitting together, quiet now, when May found them. Skye was wishing she had her blanket. Leo was awake next to her, and calm, but he seemed distant, and Skye didn’t want to disturb him. She liked the feel of him next to her, anyway, his warmth. When May came in, she felt him go stiff, and she looked up to, jerking her thumb out of her mouth, ready to fight, to protect him if she had to. But it was Mommy, and she smiled instead, tired enough to simply hold her free arm out, asking for a hug. She wished, sometimes, she was small enough for May to pick up, for May to rock in her arms. But Mommy still managed to make her feel small and protected. 

May sat next to her, and put her arms around her. It was a squash with all three of them on the bunk, but Skye slid one leg over May’s so it was almost like she was sitting in her lap, and she felt Leo move with her, looser and less tense than she’d seen him in months. None of them said anything. Skye leant her head on Mommy’s chest and slid her thumb into her mouth. She hadn’t realised how sad and tired and little she’d felt until May had come in, and she knew it was safe to be little if she needed to. She could hear May’s heart, calm and steady. Leo, next to her, was breathing gently. He was warm: Skye was warm on all sides. 

“I’m glad you’re both here,” she said, thickly, around her thumb. She wasn’t sure if they understood. 

“It’s time for bed,” May said after a beat. “Do you want to come with us, Leo?” 

Leo looked over at her. He was stiffening again. Skye said, “Please come. We miss you.” 

And Leo sighed, and stood up, holding his monkey in one hand, awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure if he should. Skye was glad. She knew he saw this—letting himself be cared for—as a weakness, as giving in, but Skye saw it as the opposite. It took courage to face up to this part of yourself. It was frightening to be vulnerable around other people. 

The walk back to their room was long enough to make Skye aware of how tired she was. She felt clingy, and maybe a little weepy. Leo paced ahead of them, the monkey stuffed under his sweater. It made a funny lump. 

Skye lay on their bed, digging under her pillow to find her blanket. It was where she’d left it: neatly folded, and safe, and soft. She pressed it lovingly to her face, breathing in the familiar scent, and rubbed a soft corner rhythmically between her fingers. Her thumb found its way into her mouth. 

She felt the bed dip next to her: Leo had sat down. He was watching her, and playing with his monkey’s paws. “It’s OK,” Skye wanted to say again, “We’re OK,” but instead she just sighed and wormed a little closer to him. 

“Mommy,” Skye mumbled. “You’ve had a big day.” 

“I have,” May agreed. “But I’m here now.” She smoothed Skye’s bangs back from her forehead. “We need to get you changed for bed.” 

Skye knew it was true, but she just sighed, nuzzling her special blanket. May patted her thigh. “Do you want me to dress you?” 

“I’ll help,” Skye said. She rubbed her eyes, and sat up again. She wasn’t sure when she’d last been this little in front of Leo. It had been a long time. But he didn’t seem too freaked out: he was just watching them quietly. 

She left her blanket on the bed (which was more of a wrench than it should have been, but she’d just spent a whole day without it) and went with May into the bathroom. May helped her change into a diaper and pyjamas, and Skye sighed sleepily, feeling even more little with the bulk between her legs and the knowledge that for the next few hours, she wasn’t responsible for anything. “Go sit with Leo while I get changed,” May said. 

Leo had got under the covers, but he was playing with Skye’s tablet. She hoped he wasn’t reading her emails. She got into the middle of the bed, right next to him. Big Skye would have worried that she might make him uncomfortable, but this Skye snuggled up against his warm side, and cuddled her blanket to her chest. Leo looked down at her, tense, but put his arm around her shoulders. 

“May!” Leo’s voice was startled. “You’ve been hurt.”

Skye peeked over at the bathroom door. May was wearing her usual tank top and black pyjama pants, but new burns on her shoulders were revealed, reddish ones, sore, smeared with salve. “Mommy?” Skye murmured, looking at the blistered skin. 

“It’s fine,” May said. “Don’t worry, kids.” 

Skye looked over at Leo. She could tell he was worried too, whatever May said.

“Put down the tablet,” May said. “It’ll keep you awake. Have you got everything you need, Leo?” 

Leo did as he was told. He lay down on the pillow, and Skye settled next to him. “I’ve got your bottle,” May said gently, sitting next to Skye. She touched Skye’s cheek in a soft, familiar gesture, and Skye turned her face into the touch. The bottle was half-full of cool water. Skye snuggled into her familiar position in May’s arms, her head resting on May’s breast, and May tipped the bottle up to Skye’s mouth. Skye felt her eyes falling shut, May’s heart beating beneath her ear, the familiar rhythm of her tongue against the teat. 

She could hear May and Leo’s voices, as though they came from a great distance. “...Jemma?”

“She’s OK. I’d have heard if she wasn’t,” May said, in her calm voice. 

Then a long pause. “Are you OK?”

Mommy’s voice, gentle. “I am now. Feeding her always makes me relax.” 

And Skye was drifting to sleep. 

*

She woke with a nightmare, gasping, her muscles tense. She opened her eyes warily, as though the monsters from her dreams might surround the bed. But the room was quiet. Mommy was still asleep, breathing slowly, blue shadows falling over her face. Skye didn’t want to wake her. She knew Mommy had been through a lot. She rolled over carefully. She could feel the heaviness of her diaper, warm between her legs. But that was OK. Mommy would change her later. 

Her eyes met Leo’s. He was sitting up, playing with her tablet again. It cast the same blue shadows over his face, on the walls. Sometimes shadows made Skye nervous, but not these. These were safe. 

“Nightmare?” Leo mouthed at her. 

Skye nodded.

“Me too,” he whispered. His fingers flicked over the screen. One hand cramped and he had to stop and rub it. 

Skye pulled herself upright. May slept light, but she didn’t wake now. She just sighed, her hair falling over her face. 

Leo was playing some game on the tablet. It took Skye a moment to work out what was going on. He was shooting some aliens. She rubbed her special blanket against her nose and leant against his shoulder. She looked at Leo’s face, lit by the flickering light from the screen. She felt little and wet and scared, but she also felt safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to S02E05. THERE IS SO MUCH CRYING IN THIS CHAPTER I AM SO SORRY.

SKYE

She washed her face in cold water again and again. Her make-up smeared off, though black flecks remained around her eyes. In the mirror, she looked like a stranger. Maybe she was a stranger: maybe she was finally seeing her alien self. She washed again, the water turning icy from being run for so long. Her hands were numb. For a moment, the shock of the cold helped. It grounded her. And then she remembered the two men that her father had killed, she remembered the blood, and she was trembling. 

When she came out, Coulson was standing at his desk. He looked like he'd been waiting for her. Skye didn't know what to say. They'd spent time working on the symbols together, Skye tracing them down, trying to make him see how the contours suggested rivers, buildings, machinery. “We need Fitz in here,” she's said, thinking of engines, but Coulson had shaken his head. 

“You OK?” Coulson asked now. 

Skye shrugged. She wanted to close the space between them, to press her face into his chest and say, “No, Daddy, no, I'm not OK,” but she couldn't do that. Too much time had passed since she had last felt safe to do that. 

“Do you need a break? You could go downstairs, they're celebrating.”

Skye didn't have to think about it. She shook her head at once. “Let's keep working.”

It felt better to work next to Coulson. She wanted to be near him. It had been so long since she'd been near him and hadn't felt like he was trying to push her away. 

Coulson stretched, his back clicking. He rubbed his eyes, sitting on the chair in front of his desk. He sighed, and then said, “I'll be dangerous. If I go the way of Garrett.” 

Skye looked at the symbols. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about Ward, what he'd said to her about Garrett. “We won't let that happen,” she said. “I won't.” 

“I need you to be prepared. I've already to spoken to May.” 

“May won't let that happen either.” Skye turned her back on him, and on the symbols, too. She hugged her arms tight over her chest. She felt trembly, and it was hard to focus. Her mind kept skittering from maps to blood to the picture of her father, that monster, to Ward, to being told she might be an alien. There was too much. She put her hand to her face—it was cold, still, but she felt like she needed to wash again. 

“Skye,” Coulson said, in the soft voice he used when he was warning her. 

She looked around, peeking at him through her hair. “Coulson,” she replied 

“I need you to take this seriously.” 

“I am,” Skye said. She felt hot. She was cold and sweating at the same time, the backs of her knees clammy, and her armpits. 

Coulson looked tired. He said, “You and May, you think you can will this to go away by not wanting it to be true, but this is reality, and I need you to listen to me.” 

Skye's chest was tight. And she was mad—it came over her suddenly, unexpectedly. She'd thought she was scared, but no, she was mad, and she clung to that feeling, that tight, hot anger because it was much, much better than being scared. “You can't lecture me about listening to you when you haven't been _telling_ me anything! You've ignored me for months, and everything has been wrong, and you haven't even told me what you know about me, that I'm an _alien_ , and...” Her voice had risen, but the words were getting lost, and she was breathing too fast. 

Coulson didn't look like he was going to yell back. He seemed calm, staring at her silently, while she balled her hands into fists. She wanted to stamp her feet like a toddler. She wanted to throw herself at him. “You left me,” she said instead, in a very small voice. A voice that felt like it came from far away. 

“Skye,” Coulson said, softly now, and took a step towards her. 

She was crying. She guessed it was inevitable. She rubbed her cheek and stuck her chin out, and tried to stare him down. She might cry, but she had every right to be mad. 

“This is all I have,” she said. “Us. The team. And it keeps being taken away from me, and I'm so afraid, and I needed you...” Her voice was breaking again. This was coming out all wrong. She wanted to be strong and fierce and make him listen, like May would do, but instead she sounded pathetic. 

Another tear ran down her cheek. Why was she always so weak? She was supposed to be strong, in control, a promising SHIELD agent. Instead, she was a mess. She was always a mess. She wanted her blanket. She wanted it to be six months ago, when she could sleep in bed between May and Coulson and wake up and play with Jemma, and not be so afraid. Back then, it had felt like happiness was just beginning, and now everything was being taken away. 

Coulson's hand was on her cheek. She wanted him to rub her tears away, to help her blow her nose. She wanted him to recognise that she needed him, and have him take her to bed and cuddle with her and make her feel safe for just a little while. Instead, she pulled away. 

“Don't leave, Skye,” Coulson said. “Not when you feel like this.” 

She stopped, because she didn't want to go. She might be mad, but she hadn't been this close to Coulson in months. She didn't want to be by herself. Downstairs was full of people and laughter, and she couldn't face that. She wasn't even sure how to face Jemma, because it had been so long and she'd been so afraid for her. 

“I want Mommy,” she said, so softly she thought maybe Coulson wouldn't hear. She wasn't sure she should admit that to him. 

“Will you sit down beside me?” Coulson said, and she went with him, and they sat on his hard office chairs, their knees not quite touching. Skye's breath was rough in her throat. 

“I'm sorry,” Coulson said. “It was the wrong time to bring this up.”

“You think?” Skye said, and accepted the tissue he gave her. She blew her nose and rubbed at her face. 

“I can get May for you, if you need her,” Coulson said. 

Skye looked at her knees. “I wanted to stop being little,” she said. “I wanted it so much. But I couldn't do it. I guess if I could stop myself, I would have a long time ago. I kept trying to make myself move out of May's room, but she told me not to go, and I just... I couldn't do it. I want to be strong, I don't want to be vulnerable any more.”

Coulson drew in a breath. “Why?” 

“I don't want to need people. It hurts, needing people. And then they abandon you.” She looked up at him, after she'd said it. He was watching her, and he reached out to touch her cheek again, and this time she let him, leaning into his palm. 

“I'm sorry,” Coulson said again. 

Skye nodded against his fingers. She felt trembly all over. She kept remembering the dreams she'd had as a kid: the monsters, the shadows with teeth. The dreams that had followed her wherever she went. And it had all been true: there were monsters in the world, and shadows could leap out and bite. “I'm scared,” she said. 

Coulson put his arms around her, and she collapsed against him. It was too hard to hold herself back, too hard to stop herself from needing him. She could fight and fight against being vulnerable, but she was always vulnerable, and she couldn't stop it. She could train and grow strong and be able to protect herself, but inside, she was always little. 

She pressed her cheek against Coulson's shirt, hearing his heart, smelling clean cotton and tooth-paste. “I have bad dreams about monsters,” she said, very softly. She felt him cup the back of her head with his hand, long fingers stroking through her hair. 

“You look so little with these bangs,” he said softly. “Like a kid trying to hide.” 

She bit her lip. “And I thought they made me look more mature.” 

Coulson kissed the crown of her head. “I know you have bad dreams, sweetheart. May says they've been worse lately.” 

Skye nodded. She'd guessed May had told him about her, had monitored her, but she hadn't known May had shared that. “My father is a monster,” she said. “Do you think they're dreams about him?” 

“I don't know.” 

He said it gently, as though that would make it easier to hear. Skye listened to his heart, the steady, warm beat against her ear. She remembered the first time she'd cuddled him, how she'd wanted to cry, and instead she'd sucked her thumb to stop the tears from coming, and she'd only realised afterwards that of the two options, sucking her thumb was probably more embarrassing. He'd made everything OK, back then. “Are we done working for today?” Skye asked. 

“I think we were finished a while ago.”

Skye nodded, and shut her eyes tight, and breathed him in, so all she could feel was Coulson's warmth, and all she was aware outside of herself was him, holding her. She slid her thumb into her mouth because she needed to suck it, she needed to feel safe, and she let her hair fall over her face and she let go. She was still the Skye who'd seen a monster today, and she was Skye the agent and Skye the alien, but she was also Coulson's Skye and May's Skye: she was little, and that was OK. 

Coulson was murmuring to her, small, soft words she could barely hear. They were meaningless, like a lullaby, and she let them wash over her. Coulson was stupid and he shouldn't have pushed her away, but she was here now, and it seemed like he still cared about her. And that helped. 

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. Enough time for her neck to grow stiff, but it still didn't feel long enough. They were interrupted by a knock, and Skye went still, but it was May. 

She stood up and opened her arms to Mommy, because it had been a big day and she needed her, and May tugged her close. Skye hid her face against Mommy's neck and felt a little shudder go through her body. She hoped she wasn't going to start crying again. 

May had the bag she sometimes took on ops slung over her shoulder, and Skye worried that meant she was going somewhere, but she opened it and took out Skye's blanket. 

Skye grabbed it gratefully, pressing her face against the precious satin and fleece. “How did you know?” she asked. 

“I had a hunch,” Mommy said, stroking Skye's back. Skye slid her thumb back into her mouth, snuggling as close to May as she could, clinging to her blanket. 

“Are you behaving?” May said, and Skye thought she was talking to her, but Phil answered. 

“Skye let me know how stupid I've been,” he said. 

“Good.” Mommy stroked Skye's hair. “It's nearly bedtime, baby. You've had a tough day.” 

Skye shut her eyes, pressing into May's touch. She didn't care what happened as long as Mommy made the decisions. 

“I want to go check on Leo,” May said softly. “Do you think Phil could help you get ready?”

Skye hid her face in her blanket. She didn't know. She didn't want to be left alone. She peeked over at Phil. He was standing up. “I'll take you to May's room,” he said. “We can watch TV until she gets back.” 

“I thought I wasn't allowed to watch TV before bed?” Skye asked May, because that had been a rule, and she didn't want to misbehave. 

“Maybe just this once,” May said, and gently nudged her towards Phil. For a second, Skye wasn't sure if she wanted to go to him. It all felt new, and she felt scared, and she loved Daddy, but she'd been without him for so long. And then he put his hand on her arm the way he'd done so many times, and she remembered how he always let her do things that May didn't, and how gentle he was when he helped her get ready for bed. 

Skye hugged her blanket close, and let Phil take her other hand. 

LEO

He meant to talk to Jemma. He meant to have lots of words: coherent, funny words. He meant for his hands to hang loose by his sides, not twist together uselessly in front of him. He didn't mean to chew his sleeve. He didn't mean to hit his head with his forearm when he couldn't find the right thing to say. He didn't mean for his eyes to fill with hot tears. 

It was worse, somehow, with her there. 

He didn't mean to run away either. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to feel her body against his, her slight warmth. He wanted her to kiss his cheek. He wanted to look at her and figure out the ways she'd changed. He did everything wrong. 

When May found him, he was kneeling in the old lab, round behind the desks, crying. He supposed it was easy for her to hear him: he wasn't being quiet. He'd never cried much, but now he did it too often, now he couldn't stop himself from sobbing into his fist, biting his jumper, his fingers. May knelt beside him and put a cool hand on the back of his neck. 

“Hey, kid,” she said. 

It should have taken more. More than two words and a gentle hand. He was so weak. He was never, never going to be someone Jemma could respect, could love. Not ever again. He was lost; he'd lost himself. He let go, he pressed his head against May's shoulder and then collapsed forward into her arms. She steadied him, as though he didn't weigh anything at all. As though he wasn't bigger and heavier than she was. 

He thought about the way Skye called her _Mommy_. He'd never call her that, but he could understand why Skye did. 

May rubbed concentric circles over his back. She didn't say anything at all, she didn't ask any questions. He could feel her chest expanding as she breathed: even and steady. He was aware of his own breath, rough and uncertain in his throat. Listening to her helped him to calm himself, to breathe more easily. He was able to choke back the sobs, though he still snuffled. He hugged himself, pressed close to her. God, what if he got snot on her crisp t-shirt? 

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I'm...” 

“You don't have to be sorry.” May smoothed his hair back from his forehead with her light fingers, the way he'd seen her do for Skye. He touched her shirt, not fisting his fingers in it like Skye might, but touching her, anchoring himself to her. He didn't think he could stand it if she left him, not right now. 

She helped him to his feet. He let her. He couldn't believe how compliant he was being, how willing to give himself over to her. “Come with me,” she said, and he did, following her like a child, his hand touching the hem of her t-shirt. 

She led him through the quiet corridors. They were going to her bedroom: he knew the way. He was glad no one was around. He touched his face with his hand, rubbing at dry tears. He wondered where Jemma was. He wondered if she was angry. 

The screen above May's bed was on. Leo had never seen it on before, but now it was playing a cartoon, and Skye was curled up at the edge of the bed, thumb firmly in her mouth, her arms wrapped around herself, Coulson's hand on her back. It was a strange scene, and it was also the safest thing Leo could imagine. Skye looked up when he came in, and took her thumb out long enough to smile at him. She looked exhausted, her face pale and her eyes red. 

“Want to watch with me?” she said. Her voice was soft, unchallenging, and Leo nodded and sat beside her, and she snuggled against his side, a warm weight. Her eyes returned to the TV, her thumb to her mouth, and that was exactly what he needed. She wasn't looking at him, and he didn't want anyone to look at him. He just wanted someone to be there. 

He didn't even know what show she was watching, but he focused his eyes on the TV, and after a moment he put his arm around her shoulders, and she was like a warm teddy-bear, cosy and safe. 

He could hear Coulson and May talking in the background, but the words seemed unimportant. He didn't have to focus on them. He drifted, and he didn't come back to himself until he felt Skye moving next to him. She was pulling away, drawn up by May's hand. 

“It's bedtime,” May said softly. “I'm just giving Skye her bottle.”

Skye getting a bottle had made Leo feel weird at first, but now it seemed normal. Normal for Skye, anyway. He watched as she settled, sleepy, against May, resting her head on May's chest. May looked down at her tenderly, and brought the bottle to her lips. Skye made a little, happy sound, and burrowed as close to May as she could. 

Coulson was watching them too. He turned off the TV, and sat next beside Leo on the bed. He put his hand on Leo's shoulder. “You had a big day too, huh?” he said. 

Leo slumped down, staring at his knees, his legs. He didn't feel like he had words to describe today. He didn't feel like he had any words at all. He was different now, changed, and when he spoke to Jemma he felt it so acutely. He didn't know how to cope with it. He tried so hard not to be different, but he was. 

He leant into Coulson's touch. Before the accident, before everything had changed, he'd let himself cling to Coulson once or twice, hiding in his arms. That made it easier, somehow, to do it now, to lean against Coulson, and to let Coulson pull him close. 

And Leo craved the affection, as much as he tried not to. As much as he tried to be strong, to be the sort of person he thought he should be, he craved Coulson's arms around him, their weight and strength, the way Coulson rubbed his back and whispered soothing words and never, ever seemed to judge. 

He ended up in the middle of the bed, with Skye behind him, his head on Coulson's chest. The bed wasn't big enough to contain all of them, he was too hot, and Skye's bony elbow was jammed into his back, and his leg was twisted at an awkward angle, but Coulson's arms were around him, and he could hear Coulson's heart under his ear, and he wouldn't move for anything. 

PHIL 

He didn't want to disturb Leo, but when he sat up, the kid moved with him, looking anxious. “Go back to sleep,” Phil said softly. “It's OK.” 

Leo looked at him, lips moving. “Are you going to Jemma?” he whispered after a long moment. 

Phil nodded. He cupped Leo's cheek in one hand, feeling the stubble, and beneath it, the smooth skin. 

“Good,” Leo said, and he lay back down, and then rolled over and curled around Skye, his nose in her hair. Phil stood up, watching the three bodies pressed together, May's arms wrapped protectively around Skye. 

He didn't want to leave them. But he needed to find Jemma. And he hadn't been able to sleep in the same room with someone since the writing began. 

He'd put Jemma through so much. He'd put them all through so much. He wasn't sure he deserved to be near them. Maybe it was better to keep away, not to let them get close again, as much as he wanted to be with them. 

No. He rubbed his head, an ache beginning at his temples and spreading through his skull. Pushing them away was the wrong answer. He didn't know if looking after them was the right thing to do, either, but Skye and May were right. He shouldn't abandon them. 

He took Jemma's bunny from a drawer in his office. It smelt like her—like coconut and tea. In the time she'd been gone, he'd sometimes taken it from his drawer and smoothed the careworn ears, and smelt the faint, lingering scent. 

The celebration downstairs was over. There were some empty glasses on the surfaces, crumpled paper towels, a faint smell of alcohol. Jemma's door was closed, and Phil knocked lightly before opening it. 

She was sitting at the edge of her bed, hands in her lap. She'd taken off her make-up, but was still dressed, and her hair was tangled around her face. She stiffened when he came in, eyes wide and anxious. “It's just me,” he said, keeping his voice as soft and soothing as possible. 

She rewarded him with a smile. He passed her the rabbit. She held it in her hands for a moment as though she didn't quite know what it was, and then she hugged it to herself, drawing it reverently to her chest. 

“Coulson,” she whispered. 

He sat next to her on the bunk. He could smell beer on her breath. She looked exhausted. 

“You kept him.” She traced her fingers over the rabbit's ears, and pressed it against her lips. 

“Of course I kept him, sweetheart,” Phil said. 

She nodded, and drew in her breath: a long, shaky sigh. 

Phil thought she needed to get some rest. “The adrenaline's worn off, huh?” He squeezed her arm. 

“Can I...” Jemma paused, shook her head, and looked at Phil nervously. He opened his arms to her, and she crawled into his lap, gentle and trusting and needy. He was almost overwhelmed, suddenly, by how vulnerable she was, by how much he wanted to keep her safe. He breathed in the faint scent of her, like coconut or like wild gorse, and rocked her. 

It was easy to soothe her. He found one of her pacifiers in the drawer by her bed, her bunk having remained undisturbed in the time she was away. He touched it to her lips, and she accepted it eagerly. She settled on the bed, hugging the bunny, the pacifier bobbing in her mouth. She was fully dressed aside from her shoes, but Phil thought she was too sleepy to get into her pyjamas. 

He lay next to her, though the bunk was too narrow for both of them, and she snuggled into his arms. He could feel her smallness, the narrowness of her shoulders, the softness of her limbs. Skye was muscular from training, but Jemma felt more vulnerable than ever. 

He wouldn't be able to sleep here. It was hard to sleep anywhere—easiest, in fact, to sleep at his desk, in the hard chair, slipping between dreams and waking, his back aching in new ways every day. But he didn't want to move, he didn't want to leave her, and so he lay with her in the dark, listening to her breath settle and even out, and her body go limp. 

“We're going to be OK,” he whispered, touching her silky hair. But he wasn't talking to Jemma. He was talking to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after previous chapter. Response to S02E06.

Leo was asleep next to her in bed, lying on his back. Skye's elephant was clasped in one hand. Skye yawned. She wanted to brush his hair back from his forehead, but she worried that would disturb him. May, on her other side, was just waking up. It was almost 5am. 

“Time for a hug before training?” Skye whispered. May opened her arms to Skye. 

Skye snuggled up against her, sighing happily. In a few minutes, she'd have to face the day, but just now she was safe, with Mommy and Leo, in the quiet dark. 

She smiled as May kissed her forehead, and then she felt May reach down and gently pat her butt. “I'm wet,” she acknowledged. 

“You're soaked,” May said. “Did you have bad dreams?” 

“Yesterday was tough.”

“You didn't wake me.” 

Skye nuzzled into May's neck. “I didn't need to. You were right there. I got back to sleep.” 

May pulled away from her, so she could look down into Skye's face. Even when Skye was snuggled in bed with her, she could still sometimes find May's stares intimidating. “You don't have to be brave,” May said. “You have to wake me if you need me.” 

“I know,” Skye said. She broke the gaze. “I was OK.” 

Some mornings, Skye was big as soon as she got out of bed, stripping off her diaper herself, brushing her hair, and going to eat on her own. Today, May brought her into the bathroom, speaking gently as she helped Skye to get clean and dry. It was nice. Skye leant into May. She felt a little shaky though the previous day, the revelation about her father, felt like it had happened to someone else. She felt like she was looking down at herself from far away. 

Leo was awake when they came out. “You don't have to get up,” May said to him. “We're going to train.”

He shook his head. He was holding Skye's elephant, gently petting the plush. May touched his shoulder. “Come and find me any time,” she said. 

Leo bit his lip, and looked up at May, and then nodded. The look that passed between them made Skye feel better. Leo needed May's reassurance, maybe even more than she did. 

“May means it, you know,” she said softly, as they were leaving. 

“I know,” Leo said. 

“Will we hang out later?” 

Leo shrugged, but he smiled too. Skye took that as a yes. 

* 

Skye hadn't spoken to Jemma yet, not properly. It helped to know she was back: Skye had been so frightened for her. But she couldn't work out what she was feeling, and she was afraid she'd say the wrong thing. And yet she longed to see Jemma. May kept correcting her as she trained, because she was making mistakes she hadn't made in months: Skye was distracted, her mind was on Jemma. 

They found each other at around eight that morning. Skye expected Jemma had been up for hours, too. SHIELD agents weren't really allowed to sleep in. Jemma hadn't been back at the base for even twelve hours yet, but Skye still felt she'd waited to long to find her. 

Skye had just come into one of the common rooms. Jemma was there, looking a little out of place next to the usual exposed brick and lack of light. Skye shifted her weight from foot to foot. Jemma looked up from her laptop. She was tense, as though everything might be a threat. Skye supposed that was reasonable, given where Jemma had been. 

“I...” Skye stopped. She suddenly wanted to suck her thumb, and she balled her hands into fists to remind herself she shouldn't. 

“Your hair,” Jemma said. She smiled. Skye hadn't forgotten that smile, the way it made her skin tingle. She couldn't help smiling in response.

She touched her bangs. “Yeah, I... I guess I wanted a change. You...” She swallowed. “Jemma, you look good. I mean, it's good to see you.” 

She took a step towards Jemma, and Jemma moved around the table. The distance closed between them. Jemma felt slight in her arms, small and warm. Skye wanted to tug her closer, to protect her from anything bad. 

“I thought you didn't care about us,” Skye said softly.

Jemma sighed. She pulled away from Skye. “I know,” she said. 

“I didn't mean...” Skye chewed her lip. It was coming out wrong: she hadn't meant to make Jemma feel bad. “I missed you, that's all.” 

“I missed you, too. It was lonely.” 

They were silent for a moment, standing close, uncertain of what to do next. “Have you eaten?” Skye asked. 

“Just tea.”

“That doesn't count. I'm starving, May's already made me train for hours. Let's find something.”

It was easier when they were in the kitchen, and there were concrete activities to distract them from staring anxiously at each other. Jemma sat at the table with another cup of milky tea, and Skye found a box of frozen waffles. She thought maybe they were Mack's, but she didn't care. She got the syrup out of the cabinet and set the table more carefully than she needed to. She poured a glass of milk for herself, because May didn't let her have caffeine, and May always knew if she disobeyed. 

She practically inhaled the first waffle. She really was hungry after training. Jemma was nibbling her own much more daintily. She put her fork down. “It was hard.”

Skye cut a corner off her second waffle. “I know. Jemma, I was so worried for you. You're a terrible liar.” 

“I had to get better.”

“I liked it when you were a terrible liar.” Skye stared at pool of syrup on her plate. “I liked it when things felt safe. When sometimes things felt like they might be OK. I don't want Coulson to have to send you off to Hydra. I want us to be...” She couldn't finish. She chewed some waffle violently. 

“Skye, I'm here now. I'm safe.” 

“I know.” Skye rubbed her eyes. They were damp again. She hadn't meant to get upset. “I know it was worse for you, too. At least I was here. I had May. And Fitz.”

“And Coulson,” Jemma added. 

Skye shrugged. “He's been distracted.” 

“He has a lot on.” Jemma sipped her tea. “He looks tired.” She reached over the table and touched Skye's wrist, her fingers light and warm. “But he kept my bunny safe for me.” 

Skye smiled, and turned her hand over so she could squeeze Jemma's fingers. “I'm glad Ben's here. I tried... It sounds awful, but I tried not to think about you when you were gone. And then I'd remember things, little things, like Ben.”

“I brought my tiger with me when I was undercover. Hydra probably has him now.” 

That made Skye angrier than, in the scheme of things, it should. “I hope they appreciate him. He was a good tiger.” 

“Hydra probably has a special prison for the toys they've stolen.” 

“With iron bars, and no hugs ever.” Skye put her fork down with a clatter. “Jerks.” 

Jemma was smiling at her. “You've got syrup on your cheek.” 

Skye tried to lick it off, but her tongue wouldn't go far enough. She sighed. Jemma went to the sink, wet the corner of a paper towel, and made Skye look up at her. The water was cool on Skye's cheek, but Jemma's fingers were warm. “I have a hard-drive I took from Hydra I'd like you to look at,” Jemma said. 

* 

Skye got off Jemma's bunk and put the hard-drive on the floor so she could examine it more easily. There wasn't space on the bed. She carefully prised open the case. “It's not a software issue, like I said. I can try to fix this, but Fitz is better with hardware than I am.” 

Jemma was sitting on the edge of her bed. At Fitz's name, she tugged at her pillow-case and began to play with the hem. “Do you think so?”

“He's doing better.” Skye looked up at her. “Mack helps. I think even I help.”

Jemma nodded. “I'm the only one who doesn't help.”

“Well, you haven't been here.”

Jemma looked away, but Skye caught her stricken expression. She sat back on the bunk next to Jemma and touched her hand. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know.” Jemma sighed. 

“Everything is hard, huh?” Skye wondered if she should hug Jemma. She knew Jemma would probably welcome that, would want to curl in against her again, but she felt uncertain. She felt like she'd keep on doing the wrong thing. 

Jemma nodded. “Everything's changed. You and Fitz always wanted to pretend it hadn't, but it has.”

Her voice sounded small, and far away. “Is the hard-drive urgent?” Skye asked. 

Jemma shrugged. “Isn't everything?”

“You just got back. Let's take a some time out.” 

“For what?”

“Come to my room. Bring Ben.” 

There was a long pause, and Skye was terrified she'd done the wrong thing again. Jemma would hate her. Jemma would tell her to get out. Then Jemma bent down, picked up the hard-drive, and placed it carefully back in a drawer. “OK,” she said, getting Ben out from under her pillow. 

*

“I tried, you know,” Jemma said, sitting on Skye's side of the bed. Skye's blanket was on the pillow, next to May's pyjamas. “I tried not being little.” 

“Me too,” Skye said. “Did it work?” 

Jemma shook her head. “I'd go for days, but then I'd miss my dummy too much, and I'd crack.” 

“I tried to get into a routine. I tried to only let myself be little at night, and only when it suited May. I worried a lot about bothering her.” 

“She adores you,” Jemma said with a smile. She was holding Ben to her chest. “She likes it when you need her.” 

Skye wasn't sure that was true. She opened her laptop, looking for something they could watch in her files. “I ended up being little too often, anyway. Things got tough and I... I always mess up.” 

“You don't.” Jemma put her hand on Skye's back. Skye's fingers stilled on the trackpad. Jemma stroked her back. “Come here,” Jemma said. “Give me a hug.” 

Skye put her arm around Jemma's bony back and leant her chin on Jemma's shoulder. Jemma curled up against her, and Skye hid her face in Jemma's hair. It was light, and soft. 

“You get things right, Skye,” Jemma said. “You're so... you all the time. It makes me feel better. I know I wasn't a good liar, but I wasn't always good at being honest with myself, either.” 

Skye pulled away. “I don't know if I'm always honest, either.” 

Jemma smiled. “But you try to be, more than anyone else.” She sighed into Skye's neck. “I've been around so many bad people, in Hydra. It's so different here.” 

Skye thought about her Dad. About what had happened. She thought about all the things she had been hiding, how she'd tried not to be herself. The things Ward had told her. She chewed her lip. She knew she wasn't like Hydra. But she didn't think she was good, either. 

“Coulson told me things I can't tell you.”

There was a pause, then Jemma said, “That's OK. That's part of being who we are. You'll tell me when you can.” 

Skye sniffed. “I missed you.”

“You said that already.” Jemma's voice was soft. She was smiling, a small smile, but a warm one. She looked different: places that had been vulnerable were now hard. It wasn't a physical thing: she looked the same. If anything, she looked smaller, like maybe she hadn't been eating properly. But something inside her had changed. It made Skye a little sad: it was good to grown, to develop, she knew that. But by growing harder, you lost something. Skye had seen that in herself. 

She opened the drawer by the bed, on May's side. It contained her bottle, some diapers, May's phone charger, lipstick, and, at the back, a pacifier. She took this out and held it out to Jemma, flat on her palm. 

Jemma took it, and turned it over in her hand. “This isn't mine. I've never seen it before.”

Skye shrugged. “May must have got it for you. No one else would have one.”

“May.” Jemma closed her fingers over it. “I haven't really talked to her yet.”

“She was looking after me, last night. And Leo. I was a mess. You heard what happened?”

“I heard.” Her voice was calm, but full of understanding. Skye knew she could talk about it, about her father, if she needed to. But she wasn't sure she could say the words yet. “Coulson looked after me,” Jemma said. 

“I'm glad,” Skye said. She picked up her blanket, hugging it to her chest. “Will we watch something?” 

“OK.” Jemma popped the pacifier into her mouth, and Skye heard the familiar sound of her sucking. She leant against Jemma's side, feeling warm suddenly, and safe. Some things didn't change. 

*

They were halfway through _The Aristocats_ when May came in. It was Jemma's favourite and Skye felt like she'd seen it about a million times. 

Jemma sat up, stiff and alert. Skye could see her anxiety, though the pacifier remained in her mouth. 

May looked at both of them. Skye wondered if she'd tell them off for slacking off like this. 

Jemma jerked out her pacifier. “I know we're supposed to be working, Agent May...”

May came over, and touched Jemma's shoulder, and, when Jemma started to relax, she stroked her cheek too. “It's OK,” she said. She touched Jemma's hand, the one holding the pacifier. “You liked this then.”

Jemma nodded. “Skye said you got it for me.”

“I did.” May glanced at Skye. “Hunter wondered where you were. Apparently, you promised to help with inventory.”

“Oh.” Skye sighed. She felt too little to help anyone with anything.

May sat down next to Jemma on the bed. Skye slid over a little to make more room for the three of them. “I haven't seen this movie in a while,” May said. “We can take another half-hour off.” 

Jemma stared at her. “Really?”

“Really.” May kissed Jemma's forehead once, lightly. “But don't make a habit of it.” 

She opened her arms to Jemma, and Jemma sank against her, like she'd been waiting for months for exactly that hug. Skye thought maybe she had. She curled up on Jemma's other side, popped her thumb back into her mouth, and watched the singing cats. 

*

Skye flopped down on the sofa next to Leo, in the warm spot Mack had vacated. The x-box game was on pause. “You'll have to talk to Jemma.”

Leo shrugged, one shoulder. “I tried.” 

“You miss each other.” 

“It's different now. I'm different,” Leo said. 

“We all are. And we're the same.” 

Leo didn't say anything. He was a dense warmth next to her. Skye hoped Jemma was OK. She was glad Leo was here, that she could see him, that he wasn't running away. 

She leant her head on his shoulder. Leo unpaused the game.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set direcetly after E06. Jemma and Skye look after each other. Comfort and TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF. 
> 
> I don't know why I didn't take a writing break this week, I've got a lot of problems.

Jemma had studied Ward. She'd watched him wake every day at the same time, watched him begin his exercise routine. She'd tried to pretend he was a lab rat, a specimen. He was just another experiment. But no matter how hard she tried to be clinical, her heart raced as soon as she saw him, and she was always afraid. 

Jemma's throat burned when Ward walked past her and Skye. She hadn't been this close to him since he'd pushed her out of the plane. Her chest was tight, ribs aching, and she felt like she might choke. 

“Skye,” he said, and Jemma was so angry, so angry, that he dared to even say Skye's name. 

“If I see you again,” she said, and she was surprised by how calm her voice remained, “I will kill you.” She was in front of Skye now—she wasn't completely sure how she'd got there. But it felt right. She didn't want him to look at Skye; he didn't deserve to see Skye. 

When he was past them, when he was gone, she turned around, and touched Skye's shoulder. Skye was trembling. And maybe she, Jemma, was trembling too? It was a little hard to tell. 

“I will kill him,” Jemma repeated, as though that would comfort Skye. 

And Skye smiled: a grim, small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “May will help. Me, too.” 

“Are you all right?” Jemma's arm was still on Skye's shoulder, squeezing. 

“Pulse 61 beats per minute. It's important to stay calm in the field,” Skye said. “No matter what.” And then she stepped closer to Jemma, and now they were so close they might as well be hugging, and Skye said, “No. I'm not OK.”

Jemma touched Skye's cheek, and Skye leant her forehead against Jemma's. They were sharing each other's air, close as lovers. “I'm not OK either,” Jemma said, and she wished she was strong, like May, so she'd be sure she could protect Skye, instead of soft and weak and small. 

Skye's hands dug into Jemma's shoulders. “I'll never let him hurt you,” she said, and Jemma realised Skye was going through the same thing, that they were desperate to protect each other, to protect Leo: they were desperate, and, at the same time, they felt powerless. 

“I know.” Jemma closed her eyes. She was surrounded by Skye: Skye's hand on her shoulders, Skye's hair in her face. They weren't lovers, but they were intimate in a way Jemma had never imagined being with anyone. Jemma felt like Skye had seen right through her from that very first moment when, tear-stained and damp, she had crawled into Jemma's bed and sucked her thumb and whispered that this was _OK_ , that it wasn't _wrong_ to be the way they were. Jemma held that memory close, like she might hold a precious jewel. Or like Skye held her blanket. 

Skye sniffled, a small sound. Out of the two of them, Skye was usually the one who cried. “Sit down,” Jemma said gently, and guided Skye towards one of the seats. It was a hard, uncomfortable lab-stool, but it was better than nothing. Jemma took a wad of tissues, and Skye tilted her face up, letting Jemma dab it dry. Skye drew in a long, shaky breath. 

Jemma put her arms around her, and because Skye was on the stool, she was smaller, and could rest her cheek against Jemma's chest, while Jemma smoothed her hair. A tear leaked onto Jemma's sweater. She rested her chin on Skye's head. It made her feel better. 

“I'm such a baby,” Skye said, muffled against Jemma's clothes. 

“I know.” 

Skye gave a watery laugh. “So are you.” 

“Not as much as you.” 

Skye looked up at her, dark eyes damp. “We're both the littlest sister.”

“I don't think that's possible,” Jemma said, but she was smiling. She trailed her fingers through Skye's hair, and Skye sighed and pressed into the touch, always an overgrown kitten. Jemma had never known anyone so tactile. 

They tried to go back to work, side by side. They used to always work nearby, before everything changed. But it was hard to concentrate. Skye kept touching Jemma's hand, looking for reassurance, and Jemma felt anxious and distracted, her chest fluttery. After a while, she stopped trying to concentrate and just leant her head on Skye's shoulder, and watched as Skye's hands flicked over the keyboard. She could see the code on Skye's screen but she wasn't taking it in. 

Then other people entered the room: Hunter, Jemma thought, and maybe Tripp, and Skye sighed, and flicked away from the symbols. She opened up Reddit instead and began typing a response to a C++ thread. Jemma wondered if she should move, if they'd think it was weird that she was leaning against Skye like that. She didn't: after all, she wasn't doing anything wrong. 

The voices were distracting. “Can we be done for the day?” Jemma asked in a small voice. 

Skye nodded, and squeezed Jemma's wrist for a moment, and then began closing the programmes she'd been working on. 

She heard Hunter say, “Can I be invited to the cuddle party too?” and Skye growled back a response: “You're never invited to my parties,” but Jemma wasn't really listening. She closed up the report she'd been working on, and Skye took her hand again. It was weird, somehow, to go back into the hallway, to the place where they'd last seen Ward, and Jemma thought Skye found it difficult too, because she squeezed Jemma's hand, lacing their fingers tight.

They ended up in May and Skye's room. Jemma thought it was the safest place. The safest place they had right now. She wished it was prettier, sometimes, with soft colours and nightlights. She felt little, suddenly, and scared.

Skye had let go of her hand as they'd entered, so Jemma wrapped her arms around herself, anxious. She wanted to hug Skye, she wanted to hide under the bed with Skye. She wanted to pretend they were safe down there, that nothing could ever hurt them. 

“Are you OK?” Skye asked softly. 

“Just...” Jemma swallowed. “I don't feel big.” 

“Me either.” 

Jemma watched as Skye got her dummy out of the drawer, and pull-ups, and her own blanket from under the pillow. “Ben should be here too,” Skye said. 

Jemma agreed, but she didn't feel like going out of the room and to get him. Too many corridors full of people. Skye took her elephant from her pillow, and handed it to Jemma. The elephant smelt a little like Skye—like curling up in a bed between May and Skye and feeling safe. Jemma hugged it closed. 

“You should call her Ada Lovelace,” Jemma said. 

“I thought it was a boy elephant.” Skye tugged off her trousers and her underwear and reached for a pull-up. She wasn't ever shy around Jemma, and Jemma kind of liked that Skye trusted her so much. 

“Ada is a good name.” Jemma rubbed the elephant's trunk against her cheek. It made her feel a little better. 

“I guess it's fitting that she's named after a programmer.” Skye's straightened her pull-up. It was purple, with a butterfly on the front. It looked cute. “You should wear one too.” 

Jemma squeezed Ada. The suggestion had sent her heart racing again. She wanted to say no, no, she was way too big, it was OK for Skye, but not for her. Instead she said, “What does it feel like?”

Skye wriggled her bare toes, and reached for her pyjama bottoms, which were folded under a pillow. She pulled them up and perched on the edge of the bed. She said, “It feels safe, I guess. Like I'm definitely not in charge.” 

“I'd be too embarrassed.” 

Skye looked up at her. “I'm the only one here,” she said. “And I'm wearing one too.” 

Jemma nuzzled Ada's plush fur. She suddenly wished her dummy was in her mouth too. She did want to wear one. She got jealous of Skye for wearing them, of how little she looked, of the way they clearly marked her as not being one of the grown-ups. And of how Skye always looked safe and calm when she wore one. 

“You don't have to,” Skye said. “I don't want to make you nervous.” 

“I do want to...” Jemma admitted. It was hard to say out loud. “It's just... I just...”

Skye stood up. She touched Jemma's cheek. “It's OK. You can put one on for a little bit, and if it's too much, you can take it off again.” Her voice was gentle. “Do you want to do it yourself, or do you want me to help?” 

She chewed her lip. She thought she'd feel more embarrassed if she let Skye help, but she might chicken out if she tried to do it herself. And she didn't want to be away from Skye, not right now. “You help,” she said. 

Skye smiled. “It's not scary, I promise.” 

“Can I have my dummy?” Jemma knew she didn't have to ask, but somehow she wanted Skye to give her permission. She didn't want to have to take it for herself. 

May sometimes touched the dummy to Jemma's lips, rather than handing it to her, and Skye did that now, too, gently pressing the dummy to Jemma's mouth. Jemma let her slip it inside. It felt good to have something to suck. 

Skye undid her trousers for her, and Jemma tugged them down. She'd undressed in front of Skye before, when they were getting ready for bed, but she still felt shy. She blushed, stroking Ada with one hand. Skye handed her the pull-up. This one was pink, with flowers, brighter than Skye's. Even though it looked small, it slid on easily. 

“Does it feel OK?”

“It's warm,” Jemma said, which was true, and it was strangely bulky, but it didn't feel bad. Skye handed her a pair of her pyjama bottoms, baggy ones, and wearing these, Jemma knew no one could tell what had on underneath. But she knew, and Skye knew, and it felt strange. 

“We can take it off any time,” Skye said, and she smoothed back Jemma's hair, like Jemma sometimes did for her. 

Then Skye turned around, grinning, and began tugging all the covers off the bed. “What are you doing?” Jemma asked, catching her dummy before it slipped out of her mouth and onto the floor. 

“We're going to build a blanket fort,” Skye said. “No one can ever catch us in there.” 

She said it with total confidence. Jemma couldn't remember the last time she'd built a blanket fort, and she found she was smiling. “OK,” she said. Then, “Will we get in trouble?”

“No. We'll help tidy up afterwards. You should put the pillows on the floor in the space between the bed and the wall.”

Skye gave most of the instructions, and Jemma let her. She thought of Leo, and how much he'd enjoy making a fort, too. They'd have to do it with him some time. If he ever wanted to hang out again. 

They carefully draped the blankets over the chair and the corner of the bed so that one corner of the room was completely enclosed. Jemma crawled into the tiny space, carrying Ada under one arm. It was cosy inside, small and dim. She lay on her stomach, resting her arms on one of the pillows. Skye came in after her, carrying a flashlight. 

With two of them inside, there wasn't much room to move around. Skye pressed up close against her, warm. She'd brought her special blanket, too. Jemma thought maybe the enclosed space would scare her, remind of her of being trapped under the ocean, but it didn't. Skye flicked on the flashlight, and they were surrounded by its warm glow, and Jemma just felt safe, surrounded by soft sheets and yellow light. 

“We're in a tree house,” Jemma said, letting her dummy fall onto the pillow. That was where she wanted to be: in a deep, quiet forest, in the moonlight. “We're in a tree house in the middle of the forest, with all the branches whispering around us, and no one can find us up here.”

“Are there elephants in the forest?” Skye asked. 

Jemma nodded. “Lots of different animals. Friendly wolves and happy foxes. And badgers, and raccoons and gennets and galagos. And fruit bats, and big red amaryllis flowers. It's a very biodiverse forest, nothing like it on this planet.” 

“It sounds nice.” Skye propped up the torch and lay down next to Jemma, resting her head on her security blanket. “Are there dragons?”

“Why not? Friendly dragons, who'll take us for rides on their backs.” 

“And breathe fire at our enemies.” Skye smiled. “We've got a pet dragon, he lives under our tree house and keeps us warm in winter.”

“Yeah. We curl up against him, like a cat against a radiator.” 

Skye sighed. “I wish we really were in a forest, where no one could find us.”

“We are,” Jemma said. “If you listen hard, you'll hear the leaves moving in the wind. And we can visit any time.”

Skye squeezed her hand. “Any time we want. In our house at the top of the tallest tree, with a dragon guarding us. That sounds good.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to S02E07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This particular chapter contains nursing [no lactation]. 
> 
> Notes: I've been sick, I meant to just write a snippet this week, but I ended up with over 4K because that's how much comfort Skye and Leo needed. I hope you enjoy it <3 Apologies for any mistakes.

SKYE

Every time she started to fall asleep, Skye would roll over in bed, instinctively looking for May's warmth. Then she'd feel the cool sheets and realise she was alone, and she'd be awake all over again. The minutes ticked by, slower than tortoises, and Skye's eyes felt hot. She lay her special blanket under her cheek and hugged her elephant, but neither brought her enough comfort to send her off to sleep. 

_What if Mommy doesn't come back?_

_What if Mommy leaves me here all alone?_

Skye touched the pillow beside her, thinking _I want Mommy_ , and at the same time tried to reassure herself. Tried to tell herself she wasn't afraid and May would come back and there was nothing to be worried about. 

But what if she had nightmares? What if she woke up wet and alone, with no one to hold her? 

May had told her to go find Coulson if she needed him. And Coulson had put his hand on her cheek just before bed and said everything was OK. Which wasn't true and wasn't exactly an invitation to come find him, but... 

Skye hugged Ada the elephant and her blanket as tightly as she could. She felt little and it was dark and Mommy hadn't been there to give her a bottle before bed, and she was scared. She swung her legs out of bed. The floor was cold under her feet, and she had to look for shoes. She wanted to take Ada and the blanket, but she thought maybe one of the other agents would be wandering the halls, someone who wouldn't understand. 

You'll be OK, she thought. You're a big girl. 

But even though her body was big and strong, that seemed like a total lie. She was afraid and little... but Coulson would be there. Daddy. He'd look after her. 

She crept to the door. It reminded her of other times she'd gone looking for Coulson in the middle of the night. He'd never made her be alone. She peeked out. It was dark in the corridor, it was too dark, and she imagined monsters, shadows with teeth, she could almost hear heavy breath behind her, wet saliva, the smell of blood... 

Blood on her father's knife, blood on the mirror, blood on her hands... 

Skye started running, shoes slapping on the concrete ground. Her hands were drawn in tight to her sides, her stride too short, she wasn't running like May had shown her, the monsters would catch her, her pulse was racing, and that was wrong, wrong... 

...She pushed open the door of Coulson's room. She didn't bother to knock. It was empty. Bed hadn't been slept in. Silent. She imagined a dark shape sliding like oil from under the closet. Her throat hurt. She was so tired. 

She turned away, letting the door slam shut behind her, loud in the empty corridor, and she ran again, through another set of doors, darkness licking at her heels, until she was in the main room, and up the stairs and... 

Music playing in Coulson's office. She swallowed. Her throat was dry. She pushed the door open, carefully now. 

There he was. Daddy. Coulson. Carving into the wall, knife chipping at the plaster, back damp with sweat. He couldn't hear her, couldn't see anything but the symbols in front of him. 

He looked tired. Hunched. 

Skye swallowed. She needed Daddy. And he needed her. She bit her hand. She took a breath, and another breath. It was bright in the room, the music was loud, and her monsters were locked away outside. 

It was OK. She'd be OK. She could be big for Coulson, if that was what he needed. 

She stood. She breathed. She watched. 

LEO 

“Did you sleep OK? Am I waking you?”

Skye had closed the door behind her. The click had woken him, not her voice. 

And he had slept: sleep swallowing him, like falling into a black sea and going down, down. 

His tongue felt heavy in his throat. His voice wasn't there. She sat next to him on the bed. She was wearing baggy pyjamas, and they made her look smaller than she was. She draw her knees up to her chest. He pulled himself upwards slowly. Hands. Hands weren't great in the morning. 

He wanted to curl up against her. And he could do that, she wouldn't mind. She'd smell like sleep and baby-powder and blueberries, she'd be warm and soft. But then he'd pull away and he'd feel pathetic and young and awkward, and he'd hate it. 

She looked tired. His mouth was dry. He just needed a drink—and he needed to pee, it wasn't his fault his brain felt slow. It was busy thinking about those things. He stood up. He was a little dizzy, but it was normal, morning dizziness. 

“Should I go?” Skye said. 

He held up one finger. He didn't trust his mouth. He wasn't sure what he meant by the finger, but Skye nodded and stayed where she was, which was what he wanted. 

He went to the bathroom. Trousers and buttons and pyjamas had all been a nightmare at first. It was OK now. His hands barely shook, he could pee standing up again. Small mercies. He poured himself a glass of water, too. Spilt some on the tiles. Drank half, refilled it. Moved his tongue around. Not that there was a problem with his mouth—it just felt that way sometimes. Stupid, awkward tongue, not saying things properly. It was easier to imagine the problem was there than to know it was in his brain. 

“Yeah,” he said, as practice. “Yeah, I'm OK.”

Skye looked half asleep when he got out. Legs flopped out beside her, face pressed into her thigh. Thumb in her mouth. He sat next to her. Seeing her like that would have felt too intimate—too intimate to bear, even a month ago. Now he sat beside her. Touched her hair, very gently. 

“Mmmph,” she said. And then she blinked slowly and said, “I couldn't sleep without May there. Isn't that stupid?”

“You should've come to me.” It came out easily, and he was too grateful. 

“I didn't want to disturb you. You were asleep, remember?”

Leo shrugged. If Skye had got into bed beside him last night—well, he might not have noticed, he'd been sleeping so deeply. But waking up next to her, that would be OK. That would be nice. 

“Are you... Do you have... places?” He sighed. 

Skye shrugged. “Monitoring. Research.” 

“Rest for a bit,” Leo said. He stroked her shoulder. 

She sighed. “Will you stay here?”

Leo used to wake at four with his head too full of ideas to go to sleep again. But now sleep claimed him easily, and he was always tired. Waking up was the only problem. Sometimes he woke drowning. Sometimes he woke with Ward's face behind his eyes. “I'll probably go back to sleep,” he told her. 

Skye smiled. She rubbed her face with her hand. He got back under the covers, and she got in next to him. He shut his eyes. He felt her drifting closer to him, felt her warmth. He reached out, touched her hand. “It's OK,” he said. It was nice to feel protective. Nice to feel like he could look after someone. Nice to feel like he wasn't useless. 

“Don't let me sleep too long,” Skye said. 

He drifted next to her. Almost asleep, but not quite. Mack would be in the lab. Mack wouldn't care if he was late. Mack was relaxed. Leo wasn't in charge of anything urgent, not right now. 

He wasn't sure how long he drifted. He was warm, peaceful. He was OK. Skye made little, soft noises in her sleep. Her thumb slid out of her mouth, but sometimes she made sounds like she was trying to suck on it. It was nice, not to be alone. He felt adrift. He imagined he was in the sky, floating in a hot-air balloon. Far away, but safe. 

And then she woke, with gasp, with tears in her eyes, her breath too fast. 

He didn't know what to do. He put his hand on her back. 

She whimpered. He patted her. He felt her ribs quiver. He was suddenly back on earth, the ground hard under his feet, the clouds heavy and grey. He wanted to pull her close. He wanted to push her away, because he didn't know what to do, and this wasn't his problem. 

And then she sighed and stopped herself mid-sob and said, “I'm sorry.”

Leo shook his head. “No, don't be sorry.” It was almost scary, how quickly she stopped herself from crying. She must have practised it. That made him sad. 

“God. I slept for hours.” She rubbed her face with the back of her hand. 

“You need it.” 

Skye shrugged. “I need a shower.”

She stood up, pushing the blankets away. He could see the top of a pull-up peeking out from the waist-band of her pyjamas. Had she wet herself? That's disgusting, a distant part of him said. He told it to shut up. It wasn't disgusting. It just happened. 

“Do you want...?” Leo sighed. That meal with the toast and the coffee and the eggs and the morning. “Food?”

“Yeah. Get dressed. I'll be back in ten.” She was calm now. Even if she was wet, she seemed OK. Leo wished he could do that. 

He lay there for a while, after she left the room. Then he sat up. The day stretched in front of him, long and vast. His hands shaking over tools. Designs that didn't make sense any more. Jemma trying not to meet his eyes. He had to put trousers on, and suddenly it seemed like an enormous task. 

It wasn't fair. Skye was the baby, the broken one. But he felt much more incompetent than she had ever been. 

SKYE

She didn't mean to be little. Not like that, not so quickly. One minute she was holding the phone and hearing Ward's voice and then she was under the table. She needed Mommy. Mommy wasn't here. There were monsters downstairs, there was a bad man on the phone, he was going to get her, nowhere was safe... 

She hugged her knees, making herself as small as she could be. She was tiny, she was compact, no one could ever, ever find her. She pressed her face against the desk drawers. Shut her eyes. Bit her lip. She rocked herself. She wanted Mommy to rock her, or Daddy, but they weren't here. She didn't know where they were. Maybe they didn't want her? 

It's OK, some part of her was trying to say. Get a grip, Skye. You're OK. No one can get you. 

But that part was tiny, and far away, and Skye couldn't really here it. She wanted to cry, but she was too afraid to cry. What if someone heard? She covered her face with her hand. Mommy had gone away for so long, maybe Mommy didn't want her any more. Maybe Mommy was hurt? Skye needed to be there to protect her. 

How could she protect anyone? She was useless. Useless and afraid. 

Skye heard voices below. The record skidded and then stopped. Was someone coming? Skye bit her lip. Wrapped her arms around her chest. She listened as hard as she could. Was it Ward? Had he got in? Was he coming for her? She wasn't big enough to protect herself. She wasn't big enough to do anything. 

The stairs squeaked. A voice, another voice. She tried to make herself small. So small she'd vanish. Monsters couldn't find you if you were invisible. Another creak, and then a long, long silence. They were listening for her. Someone downstairs was listening for her. 

Then a voice again, word indistinguishable, and from far away, a loud bark of laughter. Laughter. They were laughing at her, they were going to find her and take her away, and she'd be so alone... 

She sobbed, and then covered her mouth. The sound was involuntary. She had to be silent. Her stomach fluttered. More people moving around downstairs. Maybe they were safe people? But maybe they were monsters. Maybe they'd killed Mommy and Daddy, and Jemma and Leo. She'd be all alone. They were coming for her next. 

Her stomach twisted. Suddenly she had to pee, horribly, a sharp pain going right through her. She put her hand to her crotch, but she couldn't hold it in. She was too scared, it was too much, she was too little. She was wetting herself, right through her pants, because she was helpless and scared, and a baby...

And there were steps outside. Getting louder and louder and louder. She hid her face. She curled up so tight she maybe would vanish. No one would ever find her. 

The door opened. A voice. “Skye?”

Mommy's voice. Skye could have laughed with joy. She peeked out. 

“Baby?” Mommy sounded worried now. She took a step forward. 

_Mommy_. Skye didn't say anything. She crawled out from under the desk. She peeked up at Mommy. It didn't feel safe, somehow, to stand up. She reached out her arms. And then Mommy was there, kneeling beside her, and Skye collapsed forward into Mommy's arms. 

Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except Mommy's warmth and Mommy's smell and Mommy's strength around her. Skye felt like she was vanishing, disappearing into the safety of Mommy's chest. 

She wanted to tell May how scared she'd been and that she'd missed her, but all she whispered was, “Mommy,” and she shut her eyes tight. “Mommy.” She felt like she was floating away. 

MELINDA 

Her little girl was trembling in her arms. 

For a moment, Melinda was mad. She'd left Skye with Phil, and he'd let her get into this state. He hadn't kept her safe. But being mad at Phil wasn't going to help Skye, so Melinda pushed the feeling away, and concentrated on her little girl. 

Skye was trembling, her heart racing, and her face was squashed against Melinda's chest. Melinda stroked her hair, gently tangling her fingers in the loose curls, and murmured to her softly. Skye was whispering, “Mommy,” occasionally. She whispered it desperately, as though she didn't quite believe Melinda was really here. 

Melinda whispered back to her, meaningless words, intended to soothe her. She could tell Skye had gone beyond being able to talk about this. She was wet, too, a pool glistening on the floor beside them, and her legs damp against Melinda's thighs. A change would make her more comfortable, but right now she was too distressed for that. 

“Baby,” Melinda whispered into Skye's hair. She shut her eyes. She'd missed Skye too. It had been hard to sleep in a bunk without her. She'd kept waking, worried, checking her phone, wanting to call her and not wanting to disturb her. She'd been glad Skye wasn't with them, because it wasn't safe, but Skye had been through so much here, too, and she hadn't been there to help, and Melinda hated it. 

Days like this, she just wanted to pack up and take Skye and the other kids somewhere safe. Somewhere safe and quiet where she could look after them and hold them and she'd never let them risk their lives again. It hurt to want to protect them so badly and to not be able to protect them. 

“I've got you,” she whispered, holding Skye close. For right now, she had her. While Skye was in her arms, nothing bad could happen. Melinda wouldn't ever allow it. 

Skye finally peeked up at Melinda. Her eyes were glassy and damp, almost feverish, and she looked exhausted. Melinda stroked Skye's cheek, her forehead. Skye lifted her thumb to her mouth, but Melinda stopped her, because she was worried the thumb had got dirty while Skye was under the desk, maybe even gone into the puddle. Skye made a little, anxious sound. 

“Shh,” Melinda said. “Not until we get you clean.” 

Skye pressed her face back into Melinda's shirt. She was tucked into Melinda's chest, lips almost touching Melinda's breast through the thin material. Melinda could just open it for her... 

But no, that wouldn't be right. She couldn't nurse her little girl without talking to the grown-up Skye about it first. It wouldn't be fair. 

And yet, Skye was shaky in her arms. Anxious and frightened, and she needed to be soothed, she needed to know Melinda was there, that Melinda loved her. 

Melinda undid her shirt buttons. Skye looked up, confused. “Baby.” Melinda cupped Skye's cheek. “I was going to let you nurse, to help you calm down. Then we can go downstairs and get you changed, and lie down together. What do you think?”

Skye didn't say anything. She tugged at the sleeve of her sweater. A tear down her cheek, and Melinda's breath caught. She'd hurt her little girl, she'd said the wrong thing. It wasn't like her, she didn't make stupid mistakes, and she was angry with herself... But then Skye was nodding, her fist clenching in the loose material of Melinda's shirt. “Mommy,” she said softly, as though that was the answer to all possible questions. 

And right now, it did seem to suffice. 

Melinda was wearing a sports bra. She had to let go of Skye so she could pull it off. She put her shirt back on afterwards, unbuttoned, so she didn't feel quite so exposed. It occurred to her, suddenly, that they were sitting on the floor of the director of SHIELD's office. But it didn't seem to matter very much, not now, with Skye wet and needy in her arms. 

Skye was watching her, eyes flicking to Melinda's chest, and then anxiously up to Melinda's face. “Come here,” Melinda said. 

They hadn't done this before, though Melinda had thought about it. It took her a moment to get their positions right, Skye in Melinda's arms, curled against her side, her cheek resting on Melinda's breast. Her lips touched Melinda's nipple, gentle and awkward, and then stopped. 

Melinda stroked her cheek. “It's OK,” she said, and guided Skye's mouth to her breast. Skye's lips were slack, her tongue impossibly hot against Melinda's nipple. Melinda felt a tooth against her tender skin, and it made her draw in a sharp breath. Skye went still. 

Melinda murmured something soothing, and helped Skye to wrap her lips around her nipple. She felt the light pressure of Skye's tongue as Skye began to suck. “That's right, baby,” Melinda whispered. 

Skye murmured softly, a faint, happy sound, her lips moving rhythmically. Melinda felt a tension she didn't know she'd been holding flow from her. She smoothed her fingers against Skye's cheek. Skye blinked up at her, her face finally beginning to relax. 

And it was so intimate: they were joined together, her baby's lips on her skin, touching her in this private place. Melinda felt safe, soothed by the soft sounds Skye made as she sucked, by Skye's warm skin against her, by their connection. She hugged Skye to her, feeling an emotion burning in her throat. She was almost choked by how protective she felt. 

Then the door creaked open. Melinda's muscles tensed, ready to fight anyone who tried to interrupt them, who did anything to hurt Skye. But it was Phil—of course it was Phil, no one else would come in without knocking. 

Skye had tensed, too, when she'd heard the door, and Melinda whispered, “Shhhh,” to both of them, to Skye and Phil, and stroked Skye's cheek, and hummed to her, and Skye began to suck again, her body going limp in Melinda's arms. 

Only then did Melinda look up at Phil. He was watching them, mouth slightly open. His hands were full of files: he looked tired, and surprised, but he was beginning to smile. Melinda remembered that she'd been mad at him, but she was too busy with Skye to yell at him now. 

He put down the files, and came over to them. He put his hand very gently, almost reverently, on Melinda's cheek. “You look beautiful,” he said. His fingers were pleasantly light and cool on her skin. “Both of you.” 

Melinda nodded, and looked back down at Skye, and said, “The baby's wet. If you want to be helpful, you can go and get her a change.” 

She heard Phil laugh—a happy, unfamiliar sound. “Of course,” he said. “I'll be right back.” 

After a little while, Melinda had to ease Skye's mouth off her nipple. The unfamiliar sensation was beginning to hurt. Skye was pliant, not putting up a fuss. She leant against Melinda's chest, blinking up at her. Her breathing was slow and even now, and Melinda was grateful that she'd been able to help. 

“You must be uncomfortable,” Melinda said, looking at Skye's soaked pants. Her own legs were a little damp from Skye clinging to her, and the coldness was unpleasant. 

Skye squirmed slightly, but didn't say anything. “We'll dry you off soon.” The hard floor was becoming uncomfortable under Melinda's legs, but Skye seemed content to stay where she was, and Melinda didn't want to move her. 

Still, she was glad when Phil returned with the diaper bag, and Skye's pyjama pants. Skye's thumb was wandering towards her mouth again, and Melinda took one of Jemma's pacifiers out of the front pocket of the bag and popped it into Skye's mouth. 

Skye made a faint sound of protest. “You look very cute,” Phil said, and knelt by Skye's feet so he could undo her shoes. 

“What happened?” he asked Melinda as he got Skye undressed. 

Melinda took the wipes from the bag. “I don't know. I found her like this. She wasn't able to talk about it.”

“Poor kid.” Phil took out a pink bear, and handed it to Skye. She took it and held it against her chest while Phil began to wipe her skin clean. “Does she need a shower?” he said.

“I don't think she's up to that right now. She'll have one in the morning.” Melinda spread out a diaper, and Phil slid it under Skye's butt. Skye's eyes were closed, pacifier moving in her mouth. She squeezed the bear tight. 

“All done,” Phil said, patting Skye's thigh. “Will we go lie down on a real bed?” 

Skye didn't answer. She sat up, and May helped her to pull on her pyjama pants. Melinda touched her own damp thigh. “I'm the one who needs a shower.” 

“'M sorry,” Skye murmured, leaning her head on Melinda's shoulder. 

“Don't be sorry.” Melinda took Skye's hand so she could lead her from the room. 

“Your shirt,” Phil said, and Melinda looked down at herself and saw the open buttons. She laughed a little, surprised at herself, that she could make a mistake like that. 

There were voices in the other rooms—Melinda thought she could hear Jemma's laugh and Bobbi's voice and a deep, male murmur—but they didn't see anyone. Skye clung to her hand, anxiously nibbling at her lip. Melinda's bedroom was dark, the bed unmade, Skye's blanket and elephant sitting on one pillow. Melinda guided Skye into the adjoining bathroom and got her to wash her hands and face before she cuddled with her toys. 

“You want to watch TV with me while Mommy's in the shower?” Phil asked, handing her the elephant. 

Skye looked between him and Melinda, thumb going into her mouth. 

“No TV before bed,” Melinda said. “It keeps her up. Find Phil one of your stories to read to you, OK?” 

Looking for a book proved a good distraction, and Melinda was able to slip into the shower without upsetting Skye. Under the hot water, she realised how tired she was, how hard the last few days had been. Her shoulders ached, and her thighs. Her left nipple, where Skye had sucked, was red, and stung slightly. Melinda touched it and thought of Skye's warmth in her arms, and didn't care at all that it was sore. 

They kept pushing Skye—to be better, better, better at every aspect of her job. It made Melinda's chest ache. She just wanted to let Skye stop, to let everything drift away. Melinda was so tired of pushing everyone, of fighting impossible odds. 

And yet that was her life, that was what she had always done. 

When she went back into the bedroom, Skye's face lit up. Her attention left Phil and the book he'd been holding, and she held her arms out to Melinda. Melinda remembered when Skye had reacted like that to Phil, and she'd been a little jealous. She knew it wasn't fair to him, that he loved Skye, and that he'd been through a lot lately, but Melinda couldn't stop herself from being pleased. She sat on the bed and gathered Skye back into her arms. 

Phil had stopped reading. He was watching them. 

“Do you want to hear what happens?” Melinda said to Skye. 

Skye nodded, though her eyes were drifting shut. 

“Go on,” Melinda said. “Keep telling us the story.”

And Phil began to read once more. 

LEO 

_You hate being alone._

He looked into the main room. Jemma was drinking beer, her feet drawn up underneath her. She was laughing. Bobbi was next to her, her hand resting on the back of the couch. She didn't have her arm around Jemma, but she almost did. Hunter was watching them. 

It'd taken him ages to remember Hunter's name. Names were hard. 

Tripp was leaning on the table, saying something to Mack that made Mack laugh. Leo hugged himself. He could go in. He could go in and stand with them, and Mack would give him a beer and Tripp would smile and... 

He couldn't go in. He couldn't go in because his head was tired, and he was sore. He couldn't go in because it was loud and he'd forgotten how to deal with loud. 

So he walked down the corridor instead, by himself. He'd go back to his room, to his monkey, to his bed... 

He remembered Skye, her warmth next to him. Drifting in a balloon together. He wanted Phil to hug him, the way he used to, strong arms around his shoulders. Phil steady and kind and always certain and never unpredictable. 

He took his monkey off his bed, but then it was too embarrassing to take him along. He kissed the monkey's ear and put him back under the pillow. He wrapped his arms around himself, tight. Almost a hug. 

Down the corridor again. He stopped by May's room. Skye's room. Would they want him to knock? Would they send him away? 

_You hate being alone._

He tapped. 

There was a long silence, then Phil opened the door. 

“Leo,” he said. 

Leo's hands were fluttering at chest height. He couldn't stop them. Phil put his hand on Leo's wrist. “Come in,” he said. 

On the bed, Skye was asleep in May's arms, and May was almost asleep. The lights were dimmed, the walls patterned with dull shadows. Phil touched his cheek. “Are you OK?”

Leo didn't know. In his throat, somewhere, there was a sob. He shut his eyes. He felt Phil's arms around him, and he pressed his face into Phil's chest, and he breathed in. The sob went away. It was dark, and Phil was warm, and his arms were heavy, and strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderful art for the Skye section of this chapter can be found [here](http://queerpansexual.tumblr.com/post/103064694257/illustration-for-chapter-8-of-justwolfs-amazing), as drawn by Propreity_is_not_a_priority. Please note that it's a little NSFW.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to S02E08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels a little silly, but I hope you like that I focused on May and Jemma's relationship. I love their conversation in this episode! I wanted to write about Phil, Skye and Leo too: if I have the energy I'll do that next week! No promises though.
> 
> The wonderful Propriety_is_not_a_priority drew [another wonderful illustration](http://queerpansexual.tumblr.com/post/103457949992/art-for-chapter-9-of-justwolfs-ageplay-fic-under) for this fic. It's so cute! I love little Jemma.

Jemma petted Peggy Carter's file lovingly. She had to put it back in the box soon, but she didn't want to. She'd always admired Agent Carter so much. As well as that, it felt like a little piece of something she had lost. It represented the order of her life at SHIELD, the progression of levels, the sense that she was part of something bigger. And that someone was always looking out for her. 

She knew, here too, people were looking out for her. Coulson and May. Skye. Bobbi, probably. Fitz. But it didn't feel the same, because she was looking out for them too, and she was afraid all the time that something bad would happen. 

“I bet you were afraid too,” Jemma said to Agent Carter's signature. “But you managed, didn't you?”

“Afraid of what?”

Jemma looked up. It was Bobbi, standing there, looking effortlessly elegant. Jemma didn't kid herself: she knew she was cute and had an above-average fashion sense, but Bobbi just looked so perfect all the time. It took Jemma's breath away. 

She realised she was staring. She coughed. “Agent Carter. Do you think she was afraid? When she founded SHIELD?”

“Of course,” Bobbi said. “I think she was afraid of a lot of things. Fear's a strong motivator, and it must have taken a huge effort of will to start an underground organisation like this.” 

“You think she became the founder because she was afraid?”

Bobbi nodded. “I think it was definitely a factor. Aren't you afraid of what Hydra can do?”

Jemma was. Jemma knew, first hand, the lengths they were willing to go. The numbers of people they were willing to kill. But her fear seemed more personal than that. She was afraid for her own life. She was afraid that the people she loved would get hurt. What Bobbi was suggesting seemed more... altruistic. 

“Are you OK?” Bobbi asked, leaning closer to Jemma. Jemma could smell Bobbi's perfume. Cinnamon, she thought. Definitely a spice. 

She wished people would stop asking her if she was OK. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Come with me,” Bobbi said. “Mack is making us drinks.” 

Jemma didn't want to go with Bobbi. She liked the way Bobbi smiled at her, and sometimes put her arm around Jemma's shoulder, like she thought Jemma was someone special. She even liked the way her stomach went all fluttery when she was around Bobbi. But right now, she just wanted to wait in Coulson's office for May to get back. She wanted to lean her head against May's shoulder and say, “Please,” and hope May knew what she meant. 

But she was a big girl, and May was busy. Maybe she'd have a few beers and forget that she was afraid. That's what a big girl would do. 

*

Jemma sipped her third beer. She hadn't eaten dinner, and though there was a plate of crisps on the table, she didn't want them. Bobbi was leaning around her so that she could snipe at Hunter. Mack spoke up occasionally, trying to keep the peace. Jemma smiled and nodded but the smile hurt her cheeks and she wished she was somewhere else. 

Bobbi leaned over her so she could snatch the beer bottle from Hunter's hand. Jemma felt the warm arm reaching over her shoulders. It was almost like a hug. She sighed and closed her eyes as Hunter snapped back at Bobbi. 

“Simmons.” 

Jemma looked up. May was standing at the doorway, her arms folded over her chest. “I've been looking for you.”

“Can I help?” Bobbi said, her hand on Jemma's arm. 

“I just need Simmons.” May nodded at Jemma. 

Jemma stood up. She felt a little wobbly, her palms damp and her head warm. 

“What can I help you with, Agent May?” she asked as May led her into the hall. Her voice, at least, didn't betray how fragile she felt. 

May put her hand on Jemma's shoulder. “Jemma,” she said. “Have you eaten?”

_Jemma_. Being called by her first name usually meant that the relationship between them had shifted. She wasn't May's colleague and subordinate any more, she was her little. But Jemma felt uncertain—she'd been trying so hard to be big, and it was difficult to force that feeling away. 

She shook her head. “Well, I had lunch.” 

“Come with me,” May said. She walked quickly, and Jemma followed in her wake. She felt fuzzy. 

In the kitchen, the table was set, and some green vegetables, neatly chopped, were on the counter-top. “Sit down,” May told her, and Jemma did, even though a small part of her told her to rebel. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just a few beers,” Jemma said. 

May filled a glass with water and put it in front of her. I'm an adult, Jemma wanted to say, what I drink has nothing to do with you. She sipped her water obediently. 

May was being brisk, but that didn't necessarily mean she was cross. May was often a little short. But it made Jemma anxious, and she wanted to press her cheek against May's shoulder, and feel May's arms go around her. She needed that reassurance—she felt like she'd been needing it all day. 

But May was cooking, stirring eggs in a bowl and then pouring them into a pan. Jemma didn't ask what she was making. She sipped at her water again, but she could feel her bladder expanding and she wasn't sure drinking much would be wise. She pressed her legs together. 

“I'm putting spinach and green onions in your omelette,” May said. “You like that, don't you?”

Jemma did, but she just hummed in response. She didn't really feel hungry. Before Hydra, she'd wanted so badly to be good. She still wanted that, but at the same time, she felt like she'd gone through a lot, and it wasn't fair for them to expect her to be the same Jemma as before. She just wasn't exactly sure who Jemma was. 

“I'm tired,” she said. 

“I bet you are.” May expertly flipped over the omelette. “I made some potato wedges too, but you can't fill up on them. You need protein.” 

“I'm not hungry.” 

May didn't say anything to that. Coulson would have placated her, and Skye probably would have curled up against her and told her how tasty different kinds of food were, but May just kept on cooking. Jemma sighed. She wanted her dummy. Or, no, she wanted another beer. She didn't know. 

She shuffled her feet. She had to pee at least twice as much as she had five minutes ago. She was about to tell May when May slid the omelette off the pan, and served up half to Jemma with a generous portion of potato wedges and salad. 

It smelled really good. Jemma leant her head on her hand. She just wanted to watch TV. She wanted May to be quiet and kind and stroke her hair back from her forehead, and give her a dummy, and not expect anything of her. She wanted Coulson there to give her a hug. 

Jemma squirmed a little and bit into one of the wedges. It was flavoured with rosemary and sea-salt, and she was amazed May had made something that good in the terrible kitchen. They used to have cooking classes at the academy: maybe May had taken some. Or maybe she didn't need to, she was just good at everything anyway. 

“Do you need me to cut up your omelette?” May was watching her. 

“Uh-uh.”

“Take a bite, then.”

The omelette looked tasty, but Jemma didn't want any. She wanted to curl up in a little ball and pretend nothing was happening. Or she wanted to go back and sit with Bobbi and act like she was big, because maybe then she wouldn't be scared. 

May was looking right at her, and it was hard to disobey when May looked firm and unamused. She never let them get away with anything, not like Coulson. Jemma stared down at her plate. She wriggled. She really had to go pee now, but maybe May would be mad at her if she interrupted dinner by asking? 

But May said, “You need to go to the bathroom.” 

Jemma didn't like the way May said—totally firm, no arguments, like she knew Jemma's body than Jemma did herself. She wanted to say no, she didn't, she was fine, but she had to go too badly to pretend otherwise. 

“Go on then,” May said, gesturing towards the door. 

Jemma stood up. The sudden pressure of gravity made her need to go twice as much as she had before. She had to squeeze her legs together, hard. She wanted to squeeze her crotch, but she wasn't going to run to the bathroom with her hand between her legs. She wasn't Skye. 

She left the room with as much dignity as she could, but as soon as the door was shut, she had to rush to make it to the bathroom on time. Her knickers were a teeny bit damp by the time she sat on the loo. She was embarrassed. 

She felt more relaxed once she'd let go. And she felt more little, too, somehow—she kind of liked that May had made her use the loo, it made her feel like May was in charge. She wasn't Dr Simmons any more: she didn't have to be in control. She could maybe eat something if May wanted her to, even though her tummy felt tight and anxious. 

When she got back to the kitchen, her omelette was waiting for her. May had was eating her own portion. Jemma felt small. She wanted to get under the table and rest her head on May's leg. She wanted her bunny. 

“Can I...?” She stopped. She rubbed her foot anxiously against her leg. 

“What is it?” May's voice was gentle, and Jemma found it was easier to ask. 

“Can I have a hug?” Jemma'd had some cuddles with May since she'd got back, but they'd been very busy, and May had been gone, hunting Ward. Jemma missed her. 

May didn't quite smile, but she held out an arm to Jemma, and Jemma snuggled up against May's side. May tugged Jemma down, so Jemma was sitting on her lap. It had been ages, absolutely ages, since she'd sat on anyone's lap, and Jemma had missed it. She leant into May, resting her head on May's shoulder. May smelt so familiar and so safe—Jemma wished she could bottle that smell and carry it around with her always. She wanted her dummy, too, she wished she were Skye and could just suck her thumb, but her thumb felt weird in her mouth. 

“Your food will get cold.”

Jemma didn't care. She felt like she was slipping into the safety of May's arms, forgetting the big Jemma who might be cross or different. She was always little inside. She felt so small she almost wanted to cry—not from fear or sadness but because she just felt so vulnerable. Like she was a turtle who'd lost her shell. 

“Do you want me to feed you?” May asked gently. 

Sitting by herself at the table like a big girl felt way too much right now. She needed May. She nodded against May's shoulder. “I didn't want to be big,” she said. “Bobbi told me to come have a drink, and I did, but I didn't want to be big.”

May stroked her back. “You should've come and asked me for help.” 

Jemma wished she could do that. She nuzzled against May's shoulder. “Sometimes you're a little intimidating.”

May resettled Jemma on her lap so she could reach around her and begin to cut up Jemma's portion of omelette, before she replied, “When Skye needs me to look after her she calls me 'Mommy' and that way I know she feels little. Maybe you could try calling me Melinda when you need me to know you're not feeling very big?” 

“That would feel a bit insubordinate.” Jemma ate the bite of food that May brought to her mouth. It was much easier to talk when she was curled up on May's lap like this. 

“What would make you comfortable?”

Jemma wondered about calling May 'Mommy'. Skye did, but Jemma wasn't sure she could do that. Yet. Ever. And anyway, maybe May wouldn't want her to. 

May gave her a potato wedge and Jemma nibbled on it. “You could mention your bunny,” May said. “Because your favourite toy is a bunny, isn't it?” 

“So I'd say, 'I want my bunny, Agent May'?” Jemma asked. 

“Do you think that would work?” 

“It sounds too babyish.” Jemma realised that was an ironic statement coming from a girl who was currently being fed, but it felt true. “Maybe I could mention 'Ben'? And if you don't call me Jemma back, I'll know you're busy and it's not OK to be little.” 

“That works.” May cut off another piece of omelette, but fed it to herself this time. “It's never not OK to be little, you know? It's just that sometimes you have to be big because there are things we need to do. I wish it didn't have to be like that.” 

May sounded very open as she said it. Jemma wasn't used to May expressing her feelings, especially not feelings about Jemma. Jemma played with the ends of May's hair, running the silky strands between her fingers. 

“I'm scared,” Jemma said, as May tried to feed her another forkful of omelette. 

May sighed. “What's wrong?”

Jemma wasn't sure. She was scared about all the really big stuff—SHIELD's position in the world, what Hydra would do next, what if something bad happened to Skye and Coulson and Fitz. What if Fitz would never like her again. She chewed her lip. “Everything. My tummy hurts.”

“Everything,” May said. “That's a lot. Six more mouthfuls: your tummy will feel better if there's something inside it. Other than beer. And you'll have a snack later.” 

Jemma sighed. But she didn't want May to be cross. She opened her mouth. The omelette had cooled down a little, but it still tasted good. She chewed slowly. 

“Good girl,” May said, after she'd finished all six mouthfuls. It felt like too much, but her stomach did seem to unclench a little, like May had said it would. 

She helped May clean up the kitchen, stacking the dirty dishes in the sink and wiping down the table. May squeezed her hand before they left the room. Jemma tried to look big as they went down the corridor, in case someone spotted them, though she supposed it was probably hard to tell she was little at all from the outside. 

It was dark in the bedroom, but May switched on a lamp right away. Skye's blanket was lying, neatly folded, on the pillow on Skye's side of the bed. It was weird to see it there without Skye. “Didn't she take it with her?”

May shook her head. “Too precious to take on a mission. But she has the one Coulson bought for her, the green one.”

“Oh.” Jemma sat on the bed, tenderly touching the satin edge of the blanket, worn rough from Skye's fingers. “Good.” 

“Coulson brought it with him. Skye said she wouldn't need it during the mission, but I didn't believe her.” 

Jemma pulled the blanket into her lap. “I wouldn't believe her either.” She looked up at May. “I don't like it when we're not all together.” 

May sat beside her, and put her arm around Jemma. “I don't like it either.” 

“Will they be OK?” Jemma asked in a small voice. 

May petted her hair. “Coulson will be very careful. I don't think anything bad will happen.”

That wasn't quite a yes. But Jemma didn't question May further. She knew the risks: they all did. It was still scary. She leant her head on May's shoulder. “Can I have my dummy?”

“Yes. But go to the bathroom first.”

Jemma looked at her: it was true, her bladder was filling up again. But how did May know? “Is it a special gift? Knowing when I have to pee?”

“I know when all the kids have to pee,” May said. “It's not just you.”

Jemma carefully put Skye's blanket under Skye's pillow, and went into the bathroom. A packet of pull-ups was sitting on the floor, opened, next to the sink. Jemma used the loo, but she couldn't help looking at the pull-ups. She remembered when Skye had given her one to wear: she'd felt to safe, even though she'd been nervous too. 

May had put out some pyjamas for Jemma on the bed, her dummy, and Ben Bunny. Jemma had left Ben in her own room, so she supposed May must have got him for her. She picked him up first, hugging him close to her chest. “Thank you,” she said.

“It's nice to see you smile. You should get changed, and then I'll read you a story.”

Jemma nodded. She popped her dummy in her mouth, and sat on the edge of the bed so she could take her shoes off. 

She couldn't stop thinking about the pull-ups. But she felt too anxious to ask: her palms damp and her cheeks hot. She played with Ben's ear. “Skye gave me a pull-up a few weeks ago. When we were playing.”

May's voice came back careful and even, as though she didn't want to alarm Jemma. “Did she? How was it?”

“I didn't use it or anything,” Jemma said quickly. “It felt nice, that's all.” 

“Did it?”

“It felt safe.” 

May touched her cheek. “Do you want to wear one now?”

“Maybe?” Jemma meant yes, but it was hard to say that. 

May stood up. “Butterflies or flowers?”

“Butterflies,” Jemma replied, and May brought her a purple pull-up decorated with a brightly coloured butterfly. Jemma took it from her, touching the stretchy edges. Her cheeks still felt hot. She couldn't believe she'd actually asked to wear one. And she'd asked May too, and maybe May would just think she was disgusting? It was different when Skye wore them: Skye had accidents, it wasn't her fault. 

She put her dummy back in her mouth and sucked on it anxiously. “Do you need help to get dressed?” May said. She was looking at their stack of books. 

“I'm OK,” Jemma said, her voice sounding muffled around her dummy. She yanked her trousers off quickly and put on her pull-up and pyjamas before she lost her nerve. It felt better when the pull-up was safely hidden under her pyjamas: almost safe. 

“What should we read?” May said, and Jemma was glad that she'd changed the subject. Jemma and Skye had been reading the Narnia books together, sometimes with Coulson or May, but Jemma knew they couldn't read those books when Skye wasn't there.

“I don't know.” 

“Hmm.” May took a book from the bottom of the pile. “How about this?”

It was _Harriet the Spy_. “I've never read it.”

“Then you need to be educated.” May propped up the pillows on the bed so she could sit against them. Jemma sat next to her, and May pulled her down into her arms, so Jemma's head was resting on May's chest. May kissed her temple. 

“It looks old,” Jemma said, dummy falling out as she spoke. The paperback was a little creased, and the pages were yellow. 

“It was mine when I was a kid.” 

Jemma looked up at May, surprised. She couldn't imagine May being a kid. “Is that why you became a spy and a SHIELD member?”

May laughed. “No, that's because I wanted to work for an organisation that would value my skills.” She picked up the dummy which had landed on her stomach and popped it back into Jemma's mouth. “Now, shhh, and let me read.”

Jemma nodded. Her eyes drifted out of focus and she let the words wash over her. She felt so small, suddenly, but that sense of vulnerability didn't want to make her cry as it had done earlier: she felt safe in May's arms, in the quiet room. 

Harriet, in the book, was very brave and angry. Jemma could imagine May seeing herself in the character, or maybe even Skye. Jemma thought she was more like Lucy in the Narnia books—Lucy was brave too, but in a different way—but she liked Harriet a lot. 

She kind of felt like she needed to pee again by the time they got to the end of the chapter—beer did this to her, it wasn't fair, and May had made her drink water too—but she didn't say anything. She knew she wasn't going to wet herself, but wearing the pull-up made her feel more comfortable. She was safe, whatever happened. 

“Another one?” Jemma asked when May finished the chapter. She pinched her dummy between her teeth so it didn't fall out. 

May smoothed back Jemma's hair. “One more. Let me get a drink first, I'm getting hoarse.” 

Jemma nodded, but stayed latched onto May when May tried to get up. “I can't take you with me,” May said, smoothing down Jemma's hair. Jemma curled up on the bed, waiting for her to return. Now would be a perfect time for her to go to the bathroom, but she felt little and safe and she didn't want to move. She sucked her dummy softly, snuggling Ben under her chin. His soft ears tickled her nose. 

May came back with a glass of water for herself, a plate with grapes and crackers—and a baby's bottle. It was a small bottle with a lion on it that Skye used sometimes. May had never given Jemma a bottle before, and Coulson only did sometimes. Jemma stared at it. She didn't say anything, she just kept sucking her dummy. 

“Don't look so worried.” May sat down next to her and Jemma curled back into her arms. “A bottle will help you calm down.”

Jemma wondered how May knew that, even though she felt soothed and safe here, her tummy was still tight and she was anxious. May took the dummy from Jemma's mouth. Jemma heard herself make a little, involuntary needy noise. May touched her thumb to Jemma's lips, and Jemma licked it without thinking about it, as those the thumb was a replacement for the dummy. May transferred a grape to Jemma's mouth instead, and started reading. 

Jemma let May feed her some of the crackers and most of the grapes. It was easier to eat them while May was reading, and while May passed them to her. She didn't feel like she had to think about it, or to make any effort. She focused on May's voice and the feeling of May's shirt under her cheek. 

Eventually, instead of popping another grape into Jemma's mouth, May slipped the bottle between her lips instead. Jemma felt a little funny about it, but she liked bottles, and she wanted to do what May told her. And more than anything, she wanted to suck something. She missed the dummy. The bottle contained milk: Jemma usually didn't like milk, but it felt OK coming from the bottle, cool in her mouth and silky as it went down her throat. She felt her eyes drifting shut, and she nuzzled sleepily at May's breast. May stopped reading, just stroking Jemma's hair, the bottle tilted up to her lips. 

When Jemma finally mover her head away, May asked, “Are you all done?” 

“Uh-huh.” Jemma yawned. Maybe she'd go to sleep right now. That would be OK. Except she needed her dummy back. And when she moved she realised—she still needed to go to the loo. 

May was looking down at her—kind and affectionate. That soft, unguarded look Jemma sometimes saw her direct towards Skye. Jemma wanted to say something nice back, but she found herself murmuring, “I need a wee.” She was surprised by how childish her voice was.

“You can use your pull-up, if you want.” 

May said it so gently and so casually, like it would be no big deal for Jemma to wet herself right here on the bed. Jemma felt herself blushing. She hid her face in May's shoulder. “I don't... I don't think I can.” 

“You should go to the bathroom then, honey.” 

Jemma knew she should. She sat up. But she didn't want to let go of May, she didn't want to go to the bathroom all by herself like a grown-up, because she wasn't big at all. But that was stupid, the toilet was right here, she was being ridiculous. 

May seemed to sense her reluctance. “Do you need some help?”

She didn't. She absolutely did not need anyone's help in the bathroom. But she grabbed May's hand anyway, and May helped her off the bed. Her dummy was on the bedside table, and Jemma grabbed it, popping it into her mouth. It made her feel safe, but littler too. 

May brought her to the bathroom door. Jemma meant to go in by herself, but she left the door open. She looked at May, and May gently tugged down Jemma's pyjama bottoms for her, and her pull-up. The sudden cooler air on her bottom made Jemma need to go even more. She sat down on the toilet, and felt herself begin to pee almost at once. May went to the sink and squeezed toothpaste on Jemma's toothbrush and her own. Jemma had gone to the loo while Skye had been there once or twice before, when they were both little, but never around May. She felt a embarrassed. But it helped that May didn't seem to think anything strange was happening. 

Once she was finished, May told her to wash her hands and brush her teeth. May brushed her own teeth next to Jemma. It felt very orderly and safe. 

“It is OK if I stay here tonight?” Jemma said, licking her minty teeth, and looking at the bed. 

“Of course,” May said. “I wouldn't like you to be on your own.”

Jemma didn't want to be on her own either, but she wanted to check. She didn't want to be in May's way, even though May was so being so welcoming. Jemma got into bed on May's side, because it felt too weird to curl up on Skye's pillow. She watched as May set an alarm on her phone, changed into her pyjamas, and turned off all the lights but one. She left the little yellow lamp on, and Jemma knew she'd leave it on all night, because Jemma didn't like the dark. 

May settled down beside her, and Jemma lay on her tummy next to May, her head turned to one side so she could look at May. “You've very kind.”

May stroked Jemma's back. “I know. It's a secret.”

“Lots of people know,” Jemma said. “Skye and me and Phil and probably Fitz and...” 

“No one else knows,” May cut in. “Only the important people.”

Jemma smiled, glad to be one of the important people. May reached for Jemma's dummy and popped it back between Jemma's lips. Jemma latched on. “You need to sleep,” May said. 

Jemma hummed in agreement, sucking softly, calming herself. But then she let it fall out of her mouth as she said, “What will we do if Coulson doesn't come home?” 

May sighed. “Jemma. There's no reason to think their mission isn't going well.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's OK to be worried.” May stroked Jemma's back. “Try to think about something you like. What about those stories you and Skye tell each other about living in the forest with a dragon?”

Jemma nodded. She shut her eyes obediently, feeling May's hand on her back, hearing May's breath, and imagining she was safe in a tree-house, with her whole family. 

“May?”

“Yes, Jemma?”

“I need my dummy.” It had landed somewhere on the bed between them. 

May found it for her and popped it back between her lips. Jemma sucked it, letting her eyes slide shut. She didn't say anything else. She thought about forests and golden birds and Harriet with her notebooks, and dragons with bright green eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another follow-up to S02E08, but featuring Phil, Skye and Leo on the Bus together. It's just a wee fic--by which I mean it's short, but there's also a lot of pee. Enjoy! <3

Phil woke to warmth. For a second, it felt nice. Skye was curled up beside him, her back to him, her butt against the curve of his hip. Leo was on his other side, a solid warmth against him. Phil felt comforted by their presence on either side, bracketing him. He shifted a little closer to Skye, not sure why he'd woken. And then he felt it—the wetness. 

He remembered getting ready for bed, how upset Skye had been, and how Leo was desperately anxious, his hands and shoulders trembling. Phil had soothed them both, hating what they'd been through, holding Leo to his chest, whispering soft words to Skye. He hadn't remembered to put her in a pull-up. She'd been too little to remember for herself.

They were both sleeping so peacefully. He didn't want to wake them. But the urine was already getting cold, and he knew Skye must be soaked. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, running his hand over her arm. 

She made a soft, sleepy sound in the back of her throat, and then murmured, “D... Daddy?” Before he could answer, she stiffened, and hid her face in the pillow. “Oh no, I'm so sorry.” 

“It's not your fault,” Phil said gently. 

Skye said something he couldn't hear, and then, “I'm so disgusting.”

Phil put his arms around her. They were both wet, it didn't matter if he got a little wetter. “You're never disgusting,” he said. He kissed her temple. “Why don't we get you nice and dry, and then you can go back to sleep? I could even tell you a story, how would that be?” 

Skye sat up, pushing her legs out of the bed. “It's all sticky. I'm so... I can't believe I got you wet too.”

He could hear from her voice that she was trying not to be little. The shame and worry she was feeling was forcing her into a bigger headspace. But he didn't want her to feel like she had to look after herself. She'd had a difficult day, and it wasn't likely the next one would be easier. 

Leo was sitting up, rubbing his head. “Did you have a bad dream?” he asked sleepily. 

Skye was staring at her feet. She hadn't stood up yet. “I...” She broke off, her breath rough, like she was a moment away from crying. 

Phil put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Skye had an accident,” he said for Leo's benefit. “You sit tight, kiddo. Skye and I will just get cleaned up.” 

“I'm sorry,” Skye said again. 

Leo reached over Phil so he could pat Skye's shoulder. The touch was brief, but Leo's acceptance seemed to soothe Skye. She allowed Phil to take her hand, and he led her to the bathroom. 

Skye looked pale in the fluorescent bathroom light. Her hair hung in her face, and she was gripping her green blanket tightly in one hand. Phil was pleased to notice that it wasn't wet, although her pyjama pants and the hem of her t-shirt glistened with moisture. He was damp too, but not as wet as Skye. 

She rubbed her legs together, staring at the floor. She could use a shower, Phil thought, but that would take time, and her hair would be wet, and it would all be too much for her right now. He wanted her to sleep again. Hell, he wanted to sleep again too, as soon as possible. 

He got out a packet of wipes, and spread a towel over the toilet-seat. Skye sat down on it, looking up at him with big, damp eyes. He touched her cheek. “I can deal with it myself,” Skye said, in a small voice. 

“No, you can't,” Phil replied firmly. He knelt down and helped her tug off her pyjama bottoms. 

She hugged her blanket to her chest and didn't say anything else. After a moment, her thumb went into her mouth, and he could hear the soft, sucking sounds. He hoped it was clean. Phil carefully rubbed her damp skin with baby-wipes. Skye shut her eyes, hiding her face in her blanket. 

“It's OK, baby,” Phil soothed. “It's no big deal.”

Skye didn't reply. 

She could've worn a pull-up, but Phil got a diaper out from the overnight bag. He wanted her to feel little and safe, and he knew she found diapers comforting, even if she didn't always want to admit that to herself. The bathroom was too small to make the change comfortable, but Phil kept up a gentle, meaningless chatter to make sure she felt safe. 

It had been a while since he'd done this. Even though he'd slid back into the role of Daddy over the last few weeks, Skye had still gone to Melinda when she was anxious or frightened, and Phil had mainly been there for stories and TV and cuddles. He hated to see her distressed, but he was glad he was still able to comfort her. Smoothing some rash cream into her soft skin felt calming and natural: it was good to know he was looking after his little girl. 

“How does that feel?” he asked, helping her sit up. Skye squirmed a little, touching the edge of her diaper. She nodded. 

She only stopped speaking when she was either feeling very distressed or very little. Phil hoped it was the latter. 

“I don't think we have any new pyjama pants for you, but maybe you can pick out one of my t-shirts to wear over your diaper? What do you think?”

Skye nodded, her thumb in her mouth. 

“I need to get changed too. I'll be right out.” 

Phil didn't have any other pants either, but after he'd washed, he changed into a fresh pair of boxers. Skye was looking small in one of his t-shirts, the bottom of her diaper peeking out. She was sitting on the floor by the bed, playing with the edge of her blanket, wakeful. Leo had stripped the wet covers off the bed, and was sitting at the edge of it. 

“Thanks for doing that, Leo,” Phil said, and went over to squeeze Leo's shoulder. 

Leo leant his head on Phil's arm, gentle and affectionate. “I wasn't sure where the fresh sheets were.”

“That's OK, I'll find something.” 

Leo looked up at him trustingly, and Phil felt another rush of affection. Leo had been much more open and pliant in recent weeks, and Phil liked this change. It was nice when Leo willingly went to one of them for the hug he so clearly wanted. 

As Phil left, he saw Leo getting down on the floor next to Skye. She leant against his side, and Leo smiled and let her snuggle into him. Maybe a bottle would get Skye back to sleep, Phil thought. And then: Leo would never let me give him a bottle, but he might like it. He shooed away the image of Leo in his lap, the bottle at his lips. 

Phil could only find one sheet, a small one, but it was better than nothing. He'd have to make sure the Bus was better stocked in future. Skye and Leo were still curled up on the floor: Skye was sucking her thumb, and Leo had his phone out. There faces were lit blue by its small screen. Leo was playing a game: he heard Skye murmur, “Shoot that one”, thickly, around her thumb. 

Melinda probably wouldn't approve of them playing violent games late at night. 

Phil didn't say anything. He made up the bed, ignoring a twinge in his lower back that told him he'd been up too long. His scar hurt, too, a slow, deep ache. It didn't matter. He felt so much better now he was no longer obsessively carving that all other maladies seemed minor. 

There was a bottle, the smallest one, at the bottom of the bag he'd packed for Skye and Leo. He filled it with plain water: milk might help Skye sleep, but he didn't think they had any. “Ready to go back to bed?” he asked the kids. 

“I'll just finish the level,” Leo said, but Skye pulled herself up onto the bed. Phil sat down next to her, and she curled up against him. 

“Good girl,” Phil murmured to her. “I brought you a drink.”

Skye accepted the bottle easily, settling with a sigh into Phil's arms. He ran his fingers over her cheek and forehead in slow, soothing circles as she nursed the bottle. Her eyes were bright with tiredness. 

“Set the alarm for eight,” Phil said to Leo as he switched off the lamp. 

“Eight?” They usually got up at six. 

“You're tired,” Phil explained. “The world will not end if we get a little extra sleep.” 

“OK.” 

Skye sighed sleepily, mouth still moving over the bottle. Phil felt the bed dip as Leo lay down. They'd shuffled positions, and now Leo was on Skye's other side. Phil liked that she was contained between them. 

The bottle was empty. Skye sighed, sucked a little more anyway, and then let go, nuzzling into Phil's chest. Leo put his arm over Skye, and found Phil's hand, squeezing it. Phil squeezed back. 

“She's asleep already,” Leo whispered. 

“Muh,” Skye murmured, and Phil heard Leo laugh softly and felt him curl closer to her. To both of them. 

“You'll be asleep soon too,” Phil said, and shut his eyes, hoping that for once sleep would take him easily, too. How could it not, when his was curled up next to the two littles, and they were soft and sleepy and calm? But sleep had a habit of eluding him. 

But he drifted, listening to them breathe. He was aware of dreaming, and it felt much later when he woke. His mouth tasted sour, his eyes gritty, and he had a horrible feeling that he'd forgotten something important. 

He heard the sound of Skye stifling a laugh, and he rolled over, towards the sound. She and Leo were still on the bed next to him, but they were both awake, hunched over a phone. “...And what should the elephant do next?” Leo was saying. 

“Shrink himself and got up the chimney,” Skye said.

“That's stupid, I'm not writing that down.” 

Leo's eyes met Phil's. “You woke him!” he said. 

“I did not!” Skye replied fiercely. 

“You didn't,” Phil said. “What time is it? Did I sleep through the alarm?”

“7.40,” Leo said. “Skye got me up at half six.” 

“I tried to be quiet,” Skye complained. “I'm just used to waking up at 5, with Mommy.” 

Phil pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Do you feel better?”

Skye nodded, leaning against him. “But I'm wet again, Daddy,” she said, tilting her head up and smiling at him sweetly. 

“OK,” Phil said. He wanted to lie here and hug both of them for a bit longer before he had to face the day. But they were awake and lively, and they needed him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reaction to S02E10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure I could write anything to follow on from the most recent episodes, but I was inspired to create this. It's a little sad, but I really wanted to place Skye at the heart of her real family. 
> 
> During the hiatus I hope to write some fluffy, AU fic following on from [Herding Kittens](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2325017)

_wild and green and glittering_

She didn't deserve to be held but Coulson held her anyway. 

He smelt like ash and blood. His muscles trembled. Dust in his hair. 

“You're hurting.” Her voice was a rasp. Her voice didn't feel like her own. 

“May patched me up.”

His chest was firm against her; she was limp. She was afraid: like there was nothing left of her. She felt naked. Raw, and far away from herself. A piece of driftwood, an empty tide. 

She could feel how stiff he was. The stiffness of sore limbs, of old pain. “Daddy,” she said. It came out, a gulp. Involuntary. Like a bird in the nest or a child, crying. Like the child she had been. Wordless. Or full of words, of sound, screaming, with no one to hear. No one to hold her, no footholds. 

Daddy. Daddy. 

“I've got you.” 

Her fingers knew how to fist themselves in his shirt. Her nose knew how to press against his neck. Her body understood. It knew how to hold on. Even though she didn't deserve it. She was nothing—not an agent, not a daughter, not a woman. Not Skye. Nothing. 

Daddy. Daddy. She was driftwood on the tide. She was dissolving. There was so much blood on her hands. 

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve him. She couldn't let go. 

“Baby.” His lips on her hair. 

She gulped. She gulped back the tide inside her.

And she was nothing: she was a collection of limbs. A body, seeking warmth. An infant crawling over a mother's stomach, seeking milk. Seeking comfort. She was crying. She wasn't crying, she was drifting on a huge tide, a swell within herself. If he let her go, she would simply float away. Seaweed rising towards the light. 

He touched her cheek.“Baby.”

Baby. It wasn't a name, but it was a collection of syllables she could understand. It was a role. She could be _baby_ if he let her. She could be _baby_ if he held her like this, if he didn't stop. 

She didn't deserve... 

It was her fault... 

It hurt too much. She held on to only one thing: _Daddy. Daddy. Daddy._

“Wash your face.” A familiar voice. A voice she loved. May. “I brought you a cloth.”

Daddy said, “I'm OK.” 

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

The sound of water. Daddy's hand remained on her back. May said, “Is she hurt?”

“I don't think so.” 

“Take these painkillers. You'll be useless without them.”

“I...”

“She needs you.” May was firm. 

Needs you, needs you. His solidity against her. She felt the glug as he swallowed. 

She breathed in, she breathed in. She stopped herself from choking. Daddy hurt, Daddy dying. Her fault, her fault. Blood on her hands. Blood so deep. Choking on guilt. 

“It's OK, sweetheart. I'm here. You can cry if you need to.” His voice again. 

And then a warmth on her other side. May. She was sandwiched between them. Safe. 

Not safe. Never safe again. She needed them to make her safe. She couldn't be safe. 

Someone rocked her. Daddy moved, lay down, she lay with him. His warmth. Bracketed by warmth. Swimming on a tide of warmth. Floating. Slow. She was awake, she was breathing: _Daddy, Mommy._

She was asleep. She could feel the rock below her, continents, lava. The rock was supple as water, tender. Slow and malleable. Rock, falling rock. She was trembling, she was made of rock, there was so much. 

She was an infant, a tiny thing, dwarfed by cliffs, by plateaus: she was a cell on the tide of continents, on the slow progress of tectonic plates. 

She was warm, she was wet, she was waking. 

They were talking about her. She wasn't there, she was baby, a collection of limbs spiralling between them. She sat when they asked her to. She stood up. She wasn't there. She was a layer of sedimentary rock, a bright vein of basalt, a slow twist of granite. She was warm and wet and afraid.

She stood on trembling limbs. Listened to their voices. Mommy's familiar hands on her skin. The strength in her fingers. Then the soft padding between her legs, and Daddy was holding her again. 

“She must be hungry.”

A teat pressed to her lips. A bottle. She knew about bottles. She latched on. Cool milk in her mouth, fragrant. Gentle. She sucked. Familiar. She sucked. Swallowed. The sweet taste, silk in her throat. She was Skye again, and her eyes opened, and she was with them. 

“Oh, god, Coulson.” 

She was ashamed. She hid her face. She trembled, sore and covered in dried sweat and breathless. 

His face pressed against hers. His stubble. 

“Oh god, what have I done.” Her voice still wasn't her own. She felt like it came from far away. 

“Nothing, baby. Nothing. It wasn't your fault.”

“It wasn't your fault.” May's voice. Mommy's voice. “I'm proud of you. Drink this.”

The nipple at her mouth again. The command in Mommy's voice. Mommy knew better than her. She latched on. Mommy. 

*

She woke again, late, her limbs heavy, aching. Her cheek burnt. She was bracketed by them, a nest made by these two wonderful people. Who loved her even though they shouldn't. She looked at May's arm, Coulson chest. She felt far from herself, still, a strange, undeserving creature, like a naked chick in a nest of golden eagles. 

May was awake too. Coulson, behind her, breathed stertorously. A snuffle, a snore. His hand was around Skye's waist. She wore a t-shirt, a diaper. His baby. There were purple bruises on her thighs. 

“It's OK.” May spoke softly. 

Skye wanted to protest, but Coulson was sleeping. And Mommy was quiet, holding onto the calm. She shouldn't fight, shouldn't panic: she didn't want to wake him. 

It wasn't OK, but Skye nodded. May touched her cheek. Skye was almost afraid to look into May's face. And when she did, May's eyes were damp, distant. Skye had never seen that look before. 

Mommy's fingers were hard on her jawline, gripping her. “I've got you.” An edge to her voice. “I've got you.”

Mommy had been afraid, Skye realised. Afraid for her. Skye leant into the hand. She nodded. “You've got me.”

It was easier, almost, when she was drifting. When the tide of pain was too high to wade through and she could only be immobilised by it. Now she was awake and there were hours ahead of her. Hours and hours she had to live through. 

_What have I done?_ she wanted to ask. _How can you look at me like you love me? I'm a monster._

It was the truth. She'd always feared the truth, and this was worse than she'd feared. She was a monster. She more her father than her mother. She always would be. 

But she didn't say anything. She didn't want to tell May. She didn't want to hurt May: and she didn't want May to see, to understand, and to turn from her. She couldn't stand it. She was selfish, needy. A monster. 

“Baby,” May whispered. May kissed her forehead. 

They were on the Bus, in the familiar heart of the Bus, in Coulson's room, in their room. An eye-blink and it could be a year ago, when everything was OK. She could pretend. 

“I'm so bad,” Skye whispered, honesty coming out when she meant to imagine safety. 

“Let's get dressed,” May said. “Let's get something to eat.” 

Skye found she couldn't go out the door. She sat on the floor by the bed, her arms trembling. She looked up and May, and then looked at her knees. May didn't tell her to get up. If May had told her, she would have done it. No matter what. Even if she had to hide her face, even if her legs wouldn't hold the weight of her shame, and she had to crawl. 

She was hugging herself, rocking, when May returned. May had toasted pieces of baguette, and she'd brought a jar of honey, a jug of orange juice. The food smelt strange to Skye: too sweet, too strong. Unreal. 

May poured orange juice into Skye's bottle. Skye looked at it: the bright liquid, the clear plastic, the soft nipple. She didn't feel big or little: she just felt far away. Her hands were still trembling. Were they her hands? 

For a second she was deep beneath the Earth. For a second she was clinging to an island of rock. She was a particle of dust, she was a long vein of calcite. 

Then she was resting her head on May's thigh, and May had tipped the bottle to her lips. Skye sucked and it tasted like a hundred other glasses of orange juice, and she was safe here. “Good girl,” Mommy was whispering to her, as though she was doing something complex. 

Coulson woke with a long groan, like someone hauling themselves up a cliff. Skye imagined he vanished far down in sleep, into a deep cavern. He said, “Did you bring breakfast? You're so good to me.”

“It was for the baby,” May said, but she was smiling, and she spread honey on the toast for him. 

Coulson crunched. “No coffee?” 

“I don't like you that much.” 

“I think you probably prefer me when I'm adequately caffeinated.” 

May didn't say anything to that. Skye let go off the bottle and nuzzled into May's thigh. She shut her eyes for a moment, feeling May's muscle under her cheek. She wanted to make all thoughts vanish, to exist only as a baby in May's arms. 

“I want you to eat some toast,” May said. “Honey will be easy on your stomach.” And she was getting Skye to sit up. Coulson was leaning against the headboard. Skye curled against him, and he fed her bits of toast from his plate. When the food came from his fingers, she could chew it. She wasn't sure she could eat alone. 

Then the honey made her think of Tripp, of pancakes in the kitchen, of laughter, of Tripp's easy smile, his hand on her back. Of everything she had done. She was trembling again. 

“What's happening to me?” she said, the words unsteady on her tongue. 

She meant: how could I have let him die. She meant: why can't I stop shaking. She meant: why does this hurt so much. 

Coulson said, “We don't know. Fitzsimmons are running tests.” 

Tests. Skye put her hand to her mouth. Coulson held her. 

She was so bad. 

Time blurred. She was in Coulson's arms or May's. She was eating snacks. She was reading a tablet, going over flight trajectories. She was looking at research. She was crying. Her diaper was wet. She was alone in the room, holding her elephant. 

Blink, blink, blink. 

Time blurred. Her diaper was wet. She was a baby, it didn't matter. Coulson was changing her, swift and calm. She was doing research, referencing and cross-referencing the name her Father had spoken in redacted SHIELD files. 

Blink, blink, blink. 

She was asleep; she was awake. May was helping her get dressed. Jemma was outside, pale, smudged. Talking to Coulson. Blood, blood. The blood was under her skin. She was in blood. 

She was so bad. 

Blink. 

She was lying on the floor, next to her tablet, her special blanket under her cheek. She was in old clothes: Coulson's t-shirt, May's baggy sweats. She smelt like family. She was alone, and then May was coming in, and Skye's heart sped. She was so glad to see Mommy. She was so afraid Mommy would hate her. 

“What's happening to me?” 

Mommy took her hand. She helped Skye to her feet. Skye didn't realise how unsteady she was until she stood. She leant her head on Mommy's shoulder. 

“What's happening to me?” her voice was raw. Her voice belonged to someone else. 

“I'm going to take off soon. We've been grounded for too long.” May swallowed. “Why don't you come and sit with me in the cock-pit?”

Skye turned her cheek, her nose pressing into Mommy's neck. Earlier it had been so hard to leave the room. She held Mommy's hand: she felt Mommy's pulse under her fingertip. Steady. Constant. Calm. 

“OK,” she said. 

They walked together. They didn't meet anyone, but Mommy held her hand, and Skye knew she wouldn't let go no matter what. 

They sat side by side. Mommy strapped Skye in. 

“Take off in five,” May said over the intercom. Her voice so crisp, so calm. Unchanged. 

Skye watched May's hands. The steadiness. The simple, practised gestures. May's hands knew what to do. 

“Pass me my aviators,” May said, and Skye did. She looked at Mommy's face bisected by the dark glasses. 

She shut her eyes. She shut them and laced her fingers over her stomach. Holding herself. A whirr, a grumble, and then the pressure on her body as they sped out. The jerk as they left the ground. 

Ascending, ascending. 

Skye kept her eyes shut. Ascending. Up. Sky. When she opened them, she saw wisps of cloud, golden. And the sea: the sea going on forever, wild and green and glittering. And they were in the Bus together, somewhere in between horizon and air and water. 

It was so much. It was so much bigger than she was. 

May looked over at her. “I don't know what's happening to you,” she said. “Simmons might be able to answer better. Even Coulson.”

She paused for a long time. Skye didn't push her. She waited, listening to the silence, to the familiar roar of speed. 

“I don't care what happens to you,” May said. The words sounded harsh, but Skye knew the weren't harsh. “I don't care.” May looked out into the sky. “I will always be here. I will always...” 

May swallowed. She reached over and took Skye's hand. Her fingers were tight, almost pinching. Then she said, “And Coulson will too.” 

Skye held May's hand. She didn't deserve it. She was bad. 

She looked at the clouds: thicker now, pink and gold, banked all around them. 

She held May's hand. “Me too,” she said. Her voice was raw, hoarse. Her voice was her own. 

They flew in silence, leaving the sun behind. They flew until all they could see was night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction fic to the hiatus (!). Skye's struggling with her new powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure this will be rendered entirely AU by S02E11, but for now, I'm enjoying the speculation, and enjoying making Skye as vulnerable and needy as possible.

Skye still trained with May, but she trained with Bobbi too now. Before the alien city, she'd barely known Bobbi: just exchanged a smile, a quick word. Skye felt that person, the one Bobbi had seen, was someone entirely different to the person she'd become. They had the same nightmares, the same memories, the same terrible inner vulnerability, but the other Skye had another side. A brighter one. 

This Skye felt utterly incompetent. She felt like a raw wound. She felt like her inner thoughts were constantly leaking out. 

Bobbi was supposed to help her with that. 

“You're coping well,” Bobbi was saying. “You might feel like you're breaking down, but the visual cues you're giving me are limited.” 

Skye sat on her heels on the chair. She was wearing sweats and a baggy t-shirt of Coulson's, both hiding her diaper. She hadn't changed out of it before she'd left her room, because she couldn't give up the extra security. She wondered if Bobbi could tell. She probably could: Bobbi was an expert. 

Bobbi pushed another card towards her. A blood pattern, a hand, fingernails ringed in blood. Skye looked at the photograph, took in its redness. She breathed through her nose. 

“Good.” 

“I've got a headache,” Skye said. Her voice came out soft, almost a whine. She wished she remembered how she used to sound. 

“Danger signs?” Bobbi asked. She meant: are you going to kill us all?

Skye shook her head. She shoved her hand between her legs so she wouldn't suck her thumb. 

“Coulson wants us to work on these for at least half an hour.” 

Skye nodded. Bobbi slid the next card over. 

“Good,” she said. “Breathe.” 

Skye definitely preferred training with May. It was familiar. Skye was strong. She understood how to listen to May's commands, to control herself. And May understood her: on bad days she could be Mommy, and tickle Skye after she went through her routine. On very bad days, Skye could rest her head on Mommy's lap, and Mommy would read her a story. 

Another card. Skye didn't want to look at it. They always got worse. Her blanket was in her bag, the bag on the ground next to her chair. She couldn't leave it behind now. She wanted to reach for it, she wanted its comfort. 

She looked instead. She was Daddy's brave girl. A landscape. Unfamiliar at first, and then... It coalesced. The city, the caves, the temple. 

The dark. 

There was red behind her eyes, rising. She wanted to clench her fists, but she deliberately relaxed her hands. Red. A mist, rock breaking. The moment when she broke free from rock. She couldn't breathe. 

“Skye, Skye, look at me.”

Bobbi's voice. Skye tried to hold onto it, but it slipped away. Lost in the red. Lost in the rising rock, the surging lava. 

The dark. 

Silk against her cheek. Silk: soft and cool. Her blanket. She understood her blanket. She reached for it, and when her fingers fisted in it, she felt her breath return. She breathed in, deep and shuddering. 

She could hear Bobbi distantly. “You're here, Skye. You're at the base. You're OK.” 

Skye hid her face in the blanket. Coulson must have told Bobbi this would help. She should be humiliated, but that feeling was far away. Satin. The blanket smelt a little like Mommy now, and Jemma's coconut shampoo. Skye rubbed a corner between her fingers. She focused to her breath, like Bobbi told her. 

“Are we doing more pictures?” she asked at last, her voice muffled. 

Bobbi laughed. It was a faint, humourless laugh, and when Skye looked up, she saw that Bobbi was pale. She was calm, but her eyes were afraid. And Skye guessed the ground had trembled when she'd seen the card, when she'd felt herself slipping. 

“Not today,” Bobbi said. “Tomorrow. Coulson's coming to get you.”

Daddy, Skye thought. She didn't even care that she needed him to guide her through the base, that she was afraid to be on her own. She just wanted to see him. 

When he came in, he said, “Are you OK?” and she thought he was talking to Bobbi. Because Bobbi was the one who'd been in danger. But he stood by Skye, and cupped her cheek in his hand, and tilted her face so she had to look up at him. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. 

“I scared Bobbi,” Skey said. She gripped her blanket. 

“It's OK.” His warm fingers traced her jaw. He turned to Bobbi then, and asked her if she was all right. 

Bobbi was watching them, and Skye thought that she could see everything: not just that Skye loved Coulson, but that he was her Daddy. She seemed to know all Skye's secrets, but she just nodded to Coulson and said she was OK, and left them alone. 

Skye thought maybe she could trust Bobbi. 

The pictures were still on the table. 

Skye turned away. She pressed her face into Daddy's stomach. He was much bigger than her because he was standing while she was curled up on the chair. She liked that. She felt his hands on her hair. 

They were in one of the grimmer interrogation rooms. But Skye said, “Can I have a cuddle? For just a little bit?” and Coulson didn't object. 

She curled up on his lap, making herself as small as possible. Her body felt stronger than ever, rough and bruised from training, and heavy with something else. The inner, terrible power. But she could still fit herself in Coulson's arms. 

She put her thumb in her mouth, and tucked her nose against his neck. He rocked her. “I wish we didn't have to do this, baby,” he said. His voice was rough. 

Skye nuzzled into him. Her heart still felt hot, and tight. She sighed, taking slow breaths. She thought she was getting better at control. But she was so, so scared, and she only felt in control when she was with Coulson or May; she only felt safe when they were holding her. 

She was pathetic. She listened to Coulson's heart, felt him sway gently. Her muscles began to relax. She felt her bladder relax too, and suddenly she was wetting, the diaper growing warm and heavy. She pressed her face against Coulson's shirt, hoping he couldn't tell. 

But he put his hand on her butt thoughtfully, gently patting the diaper. “I'm sorry,” Skye murmured. “It just happened.” 

“I know,” he said. “It's OK.”

And she knew it was OK, but she knew he was also adding it to the list of things he worried about. Skye having panic attacks. Skye losing more control of her bladder. Skye needing her blanket wherever she went. She knew he worried about keeping her safe all the time now, and she hated that was what she'd become. 

He kissed her hair. “Shall we go back to our rooms? I'll give you a bottle, then maybe you can help Fitz with coding.” 

Skye nodded. She took his hand. He didn't let go, even when he lead through the main corridors. 

Everything was different. Skye clung to his hand, because it felt the same as always. 

Coulson had taken to working more and more from their bedroom, though sometimes Skye sat with him in his office instead. Today, he led her up there. Skye felt drained by the exercise with Bobbi—it was harder than an hour with May. The tiredness made her feel extra little, as did the heavy warmth between her legs. Coulson had tucked her blanket away into her bag, but she wanted to reach for it. 

Leo was in the office already. Jemma was working long hours in the lab, and came back tired and pale, needing almost as much comfort as Skye, though it took her a long time to relax. Leo did most of his work in here now, sitting silent, hands moving carefully through machines or over keyboards. He was so quiet you could almost forget him. That was different too. 

When they came in, Leo raised his eyebrows at Coulson, and Coulson shook his head. Skye didn't know what their silent communication meant, but she guessed it was something to do with her. Coulson locked the door behind them, and Skye got out her blanket. 

“I promised you a bottle, didn't I, baby?”

Skye shrugged. She played with the edge of her blanket. Her head felt heavy. Daddy put his hand on her back. He said, in a softer voice, “And you need a fresh diaper too, don't you?”

It was easy to let him guide her back onto his lap. He gave her the bottle first, and when she was sleepy, dazed with sucking and with his warmth, he changed her. His hands felt far away. She could hear Leo typing, the quick pecking. 

“Can I help?” she asked afterwards, drawing her knees to her chest. 

“It's alright if you're too tired,” Leo said, but she wanted to be useful. They'd been building a virus to break into Hydra's systems. It should've mostly been her work, but her brain kept wandering, and Leo was doing too much. 

It was so hard to be a burden, when for so long you'd been helpful. 

“I'm not too tired.” She folded her blanket over her shoulder. 

Leo was sitting at Coulson's desk, but he came and sat on the floor next to Skye, so they could both look at the screen. Her hands felt wobbly, but she could still type. 

For a little while, she could focus. Her mind liked the challenge. Leo was quicker than he used to be too: he was good at finding solutions, and he followed her thoughts easily. 

“We could use this, you know, in portable tech. Something to hack in if we're trying to infiltrate a base.” Leo was leaning against her side, a solid warmth. 

“Maybe.” Skye nibbled her thumb. “What were you thinking?” 

She listened to Leo talking, and in the background, she could hear Coulson moving around. His voice on the phone, his hands shuffling through files. In moments like this, Skye felt like she might be OK again. But they never seemed to last. 

*

She was left her on her own the next day, in Coulson's office. She was curled up in one of Coulson's chairs, cuddling her blanket and Ada Lovelace, playing with the 3DS that Coulson had bought for her. It was good to have a game to focus on. It wasn't so challenging that it stressed her, but it did distract her. 

She didn't realise she was alone until she looked up. The laptop on Coulson's desk was still on, but the door was shut, and the room empty. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and breathed through her nose. 

“You're fine,” she whispered. “You're a big girl.” 

Coulson had done this before. He always came back. He was busy, important. He couldn't babysit her all day. She had to be able to cope on her own. 

But her heart was racing, and her thoughts weren't rational. They've left you, they don't love you, you're too much work. You're a killer. You'd be better off locked in a cage underground. You should bury yourself under a heap of rubble, that's what you'd do if you weren't so selfish... 

She sat on the floor. Solid. _Don't break the floor, Skye._ She breathed. She hung on to Ada, who was brave and wasn't scared, and wouldn't want Skye to be buried under a pile of rubble. 

For a while, she could keep calm. She could hold the feelings away. Like when Bobbi showed her the pictures. But then the feeling inside would build and build. It'd want to spill out of her. It'd want to break something. 

There were tears on her face, though she didn't remember beginning to cry. She covered her eyes with her hands. Tears were a warning sign too. _Don't break the lights. Daddy has already had to replace these lights too many times._

It was like trying to hold a wave inside her, a huge wave, the whole ocean. It was like every scary thought, every time she'd felt alone, was amplified and was pounding around within her. Was drowning her. 

Her breath hitched. 

The desk trembled. 

She was so afraid. 

_You're OK, you're OK, you're OK._ She tried to cling to a coding sequence she'd learnt long ago, moving the numbers around in her head. _You're OK._

She wasn't OK. Her chest was tight. Her stomach hurt. She wanted to throw up. She rocked herself. 

A cool hand on her forehead. Her blanket against her cheek. 

“I'm here, baby.” It was May. 

She couldn't unclench. But she leant into the hand. “I tried,” she said though gritted teeth. “I tried really hard.” She wasn't sure May would understand. 

But Mommy stroked her cheek, her hair. “I know. You were upset but you didn't break anything, Skye. You're getting closer...”

Skye cut in: “But I almost did! It's not...” _Not good enough. They must hate me._ She whimpered a little, clinging to Ada. 

Mommy shushed her. She stroked her back until Skye was able to unfold, just a little, just enough that she could crawl into Mommy's arms. 

“I'm so useless,” Skye whispered against Mommy's neck. 

May's hands tightened. “Don't talk about yourself like that.”

“But I am. I'm broken. I can't even... I can't even be sure I won't hurt you.” 

She shut her eyes tight. That was a scary thing to admit. She was braced for May to push her away, to say, _I'm sorry, Skye, this isn't working out._

But May snorted. “As if you could hurt me.” 

Skye squirmed a little, relaxing into Mommy. It was true: she couldn't imagine being able to hurt May. “Really?” 

May didn't even bother to reply to that. She rocked Skye, there on the floor, and Skye sighed and slid her thumb into her mouth, and listened to Mommy's pulse. Mommy smoothed back her bangs, and dried her tears with her sleeve. 

“Is it time to train?” Skye asked suddenly, around her thumb. Mommy was busy: she didn't usually looked after Skye until their training session at 5pm. 

“Let me worry about that,” May replied, which made Skye think it maybe was, but Mommy didn't think she was well enough. 

She was both glad, because it meant prolonging the cuddle, and frustrated, because it meant she was even more useless today than usual. She sighed, and leant her cheek on Mommy's chest. She felt a little floaty, like she often did after having big emotions. She didn't think she could do anything other than cling to Mommy, and maybe watch cartoons, the ones with soft voices that Leo said were just for babies. 

“Come on, let's sit go sit on Coulson's bed.” May helped her up. “It's not very comfortable on the floor.” 

Coulson's bed was close to his office. Until recently, Skye hadn't been in there often, but now she napped there lots of afternoons, so Coulson was close by if she needed him. She could call, and he'd hear. She curled up against May now, propped up on pillows at the top of the bed, clinging Ada and her blanket. 

She should feel safe here, safe and calm, but instead there were waves of fear running through her. She hooked her fingers in Mommy's shirt. _You're safe, you're safe, Mommy loves you._ But she was so much work. There was always something. Always some reason for people to let her go. 

The wave again, white and huge and endless. 

“Mommy,” she whispered. 

“I've got you.” May's was stroking her forehead. She focused on the sensation, Mommy's hands soothing her, keeping her safe. 

“Mommy.” Her voice was all choked-up, raw. Like she was speaking around nails. God, she was pathetic. “Mommy, I love you.” 

Mommy didn't push her away, didn't tell her she couldn't, that she wasn't able to love anyone because she was too broken and no one wanted her love, anyway. She just kept stroking her, and then she said, “You too, baby.” She tangled her fingers through Skye's hair. “Would you like to nurse?” 

Skye nodded. She felt like something hard and horrible inside her stomach had finally melted away. Nursing with Mommy was always safe, calming, it was the most secure place she could be. 

May carefully arranged her clothes to allow Skye access to her breast. They'd been a little awkward at this at first, struggling to get the angle right, but now Skye knew how to settle in May's arms, and angle her mouth against May's areola. She wrapped her lips around it, sucking softly, feeling May's warm skin under her cheek, hearing her heart, and the tender intimacy of the breast at her mouth. 

She hadn't realised how tense she'd been. She felt her muscles begin to relax, her stomach unclench. She had a headache, a gentle pounding in her temples, but it wasn't bad. She shut her eyes, and sighed. 

Then she felt herself wetting: a warm surge in her diaper, the padding swelling. She realised, as she peed, that she'd had to go pretty bad, but she'd been distracted by everything else. Letting go now made her fell more comfortable, but she also felt embarrassed. It was one thing to wear diapers, but another to wet when she was in Mommy's or Daddy's arms. 

May had noticed, because she said, “I'll change you soon,” but she didn't seem to mind. She just stroked Skye's cheek, and let her suckle. 

The door opened, but Skye heard Jemma's voice before she had time to get nervous. “Can I...?” Jemma began, but broke off. 

“Hey, kid.” May's voice was tender. “Come here.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Come here. Take your shoes off.” May was firm now. She kept stroking Skye's cheek, so Skye knew nothing was wrong. 

She felt the bed shift as Jemma sat down. “Your dummy is in the top drawer.” 

“I.. I don't...” 

Skye knew Jemma was having trouble being little. But at the same time, she could tell from Jemma's voice that she was stressed and frightened and she needed someone to take care of her. 

“Take it,” May said again, and Skye heard the drawer open. 

Then Jemma was snuggling up against May's other side, her head on May's shoulder, the dummy moving in her mouth. Skye reached over and took Jemma's hand. She blinked at Jemma, but she didn't feel able to move just yet, even to say hello. 

Jemma squeezed back. 

Skye wanted to drift, finally feeling safe, she wanted to slip into sleep, but May eased her breast from Skye's mouth, and made her sit up a little. Skye yawned, rubbing her blanket against her cheek. “Sleepy.” 

“I know. Do you girls want a story before we eat?” 

Jemma was sucking her dummy, her eyes glazed. She just hooked her arm more tightly around May, not saying anything. May looked down at her. “It's too late to sleep, kiddo. But maybe you should start taking naps after lunch with Skye.” 

“Not tired,” Jemma murmured. “Too much work to do.” 

May frowned. But she didn't say anything else about it. Instead her hand slipped out, and she tickled Skye in one of Skye's most ticklish spots, just above her hip. Skye squirmed. She felt too sleepy to giggle. But she didn't flinch away either. 

Mommy seemed to take that as an invitation, because she tickled Skye's tummy and along Skye's ribs, and soon Skye was squirming and laughing and trying to push Mommy away. May didn't let her escape though: she had Skye's hands trapped above her head as Skye's fingers grasped uselessly at the air. Skye was never worried about hurting Mommy, not like this, when they were laughing, because May was too quick to ever be caught by Skye's thrashing limbs, so Skye wriggled as hard as she could. 

“Jemma, help,” Skye called. 

Jemma was watching them, sitting up, eyes wide, but she didn't join in. The dummy bobbed in her mouth. 

“She doesn't want to play.” Skye looked up at Mommy. 

“Maybe we should make her.” 

Jemma stood up. “Don't tickle me.” 

“Mommy tickles me _all_ the time,” Skye told her, which was an exaggeration. 

“Maybe you should catch her, Skye,” Mommy said, suddenly letting her go. Skye rolled over. She could feel her wet diaper squish under her butt, but she had more important things to think about right now. 

Jemma ran around the other side of the bed. If Skye had been thinking like Agent Skye, she could've caught her easily. But Skye was only thinking like her little self, and she just felt small, and almost safe for once, and Jemma was right there waiting to be grabbed, so Skye scrambled after her. Jemma managed to dart away once, but Skye caught her the second time, using her weight to propel Jemma back onto the bed. 

For a second Jemma was stiff, and seemed almost frightened, and Skye was worried she was going to be upset or annoyed, and Skye didn't want Jemma to be sad, but then Jemma was wriggling, and Skye tickled her, and Jemma laughed. 

She hadn't done this with Jemma in months—it felt more like years. She hadn't been able to play fight with her or tickle her or make her laugh. They could cuddle, but they always ended up being serious. Now though, Jemma was relaxed enough to giggle, and then she fought back, fingers on Skye's sides, squirming and laughing and pinching. 

“Have you got wild animals in here?” 

Skye looked up. Jemma, trapped between her knees, was red-faced, biting her lips, still giggling a little. 

“Some kittens broke in,” May said, voice flat. “They'll wear themselves out soon. We can put them back outside when they're sleeping.” 

“Mommy.” Skye was scandalised. “You have to keep your kittens.” 

“What do you think, Phil?” May looked up at him, smiling faintly. “Should we keep them?”

“Think they're more trouble than they're worth.” Phil sat down on the bed and petted both of them, like they really were kittens, brushing back their hair. 

Skye though maybe that was true, even though Phil was smiling to show he didn't mean it. But Jemma said, “We're not trouble. Anyway, you'd miss us.” She squirmed out from under Skye and leant into Phil's side. He kissed her forehead. “I'm thirsty,” she said. 

“We can fix that. What about you, Skye?”

Skye's mouth was dry, but her wet diaper was getting cold, and that was bothering her the most. She glanced at Mommy, wondering if she remembered. 

Mommy stood up. “Where's Leo?” 

“In the office. Finishing up his project for the day.” Phil handed Jemma her dummy, because she was groping for it. 

“He's done enough. You get him and Jemma ready for dinner. I'm going to change the baby.” 

Mommy's voice was firm and calm. Daddy didn't argue at all. He took Jemma's hand and led her out to Leo, while Skye settled on the bed so Mommy could get her changed. 

“You made Jemma smile,” Skye said, as Mommy undid the tapes on her wet diaper. 

“That was mostly you.”

“You started it.” Skye wriggled as Mommy rubbed a cold wipe on her butt. 

“Jemma needed to smile. And so did you.” Mommy paused, looking down at Skye. “This will go faster if you stay still.” 

Skye sighed. It was hard not to squirm away from the wipes, but she slid her thumb into her mouth and tried hard. Mommy got the fresh diaper on her in one deft motion. Then Mommy pressed a soft kiss to her belly. “Good girl,” she said, helping Skye back into her sweats. 

*

It was her night to sleep with Daddy. Mommy and Daddy let her share with them on alternative nights now. Skye knew it was because she usually woke them, and this way they were better rested, but they hadn't said that to her. They didn't want her to feel like she was an obligation. 

This night, when she woke, it was raining. Her face was wet, too, with tears she'd shed in her sleep, and her throat felt raw. Daddy was lying on his back, snoring softly. Skye put her hand to her mouth and bit into her palm, because she didn't want to cry out. Maybe she could keep calm on her own. Maybe she wouldn't have to wake him. 

She kept her eyes on the rain, the drops illuminated with a faint glow from outside. She listened to the patter of rain on the roof and against the window, and felt Daddy's warmth behind her. She felt the great sea inside herself too, the huge sea, wide enough to swamp continents, to lift islands. She breathed. She wasn't going to let it wash everything away. 

After a moment, she sat up carefully. Leo was awake too, sitting on the soft chair, his face lit by the blue of his tablet's screen. 

“Are you OK?” he mouthed. 

Skye wasn't sure. She slid her legs out of the bed, toes curling on the cold floor. “Are you?” she whispered. 

Leo shrugged. “Bad dream.” His monkey was clasped against his chest, and his dinosaur too. Skye padded over the floor and perched on the edge of his chair. He looked pale and alien in the blue light. 

“You could wake Daddy,” Skye whispered. 

“So could you.” 

Skye looked over at sleeping Phil. He was snoring just a little bit. Her throat hurt, and she wanted him to make her a bottle, and maybe rock her a little in his lap. And Leo needed him too, so it would be selfless, really, to wake him up. Leo could have cuddles, and go to sleep with his face pressed into Daddy's chest. 

But Leo was being brave, and she could be too. “Are you cold?” she asked. 

Leo moved over, creating a sliver of space on the armchair. “Sit beside me,” he said. 

Skye was pretty sure that was his way of asking for affection when he didn't really feel brave enough to say it out loud. She wedged herself in next to him—she had to sit a little on top of him to fit in at all. Leo sighed. Up close, she could see his face was pale, and his eyes were red. 

She put her arm around his shoulders, and he leant his head against her. He was cold, she could feel his cool thighs under her, and she rubbed his back, trying to act like a blanket. “It's going to be OK,” Leo said, in a very small voice. He sounded far away. 

“It is,” Skye agreed, though she didn't think it was, really. She probably did belong under a pile of rubble. She was probably putting Leo in danger just by being here. 

“Are you wet?” 

Skye was, but she said, “No, it's OK.”

“You should wake him, then. You'll get a... a rash.” 

“Uh-uh.” Skye leant her head on Leo's shoulder. “He's snoring.” 

They both looked over at Phil, a dim shape in the dim room. He was snoring, just a little bit. “It's your funeral,” Leo said. 

“He worries about us. They both do.” 

“I know.”

“Me especially.” Skye sighed. Leo's shirt was soft under her cheek. 

“Well, you are the most demanding.” Skye could tell Leo was joking, but the words still stung a little. 

“We'll let him sleep. I'll look after you.” Skye petted Leo's curls. 

“Let's find a game,” Leo said. Skye settled more comfortably against him, and together they searched for something they could play.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to S02E11. Leo is a good big brother. 
> 
> This doesn't follow on from the last chapter--E11 rendered the previous two chapters of this AU.

She hadn't been to her own bunk in months. Leo and Jemma knew that—anything else was a cover. But now, much as she needed to crawl into Mommy's bed, much as she missed her smell, the safety of her arms, Skye went to her bunk. It didn't feel like home. There was a pile of plaid shirts she hadn't worn in months on a chair, her Hula girl, jewellery, some make-up. Nothing important. 

The room felt too small, too similar to quarantine. Skye sank down on the edge of her bed. Her blanket wasn't there, and neither was Ada Lovelace, her elephant. She wasn't sure if she'd sleep—sleeping without them in quarantine had been hard. 

“You need to rest.” 

It was May. Skye looked up at her: she was leaning against the door-frame, her arms folded over her stomach. Her expression was firm. Skye brought her hand to her mouth, but didn't suck her thumb. 

“I want to stay here tonight.” 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” May said. 

Skye squirmed. She didn't think it was a good idea either. But she needed to be by herself. She needed to think. What if she had a bad dream, what if she hurt Mommy? Her hand throbbed where she'd cut it. The light had smashed and inside she'd felt—something huge, a vast ocean, something she couldn't contain. She was afraid. 

“I need...” Skye licked her lips. “I need some time, Agent May.” 

She saw May stiffen at the _Agent_. Skye never called her that: even when they were in public, it was always May. Just as saying, “Mommy,” was a way for Skye to say, “Please take care of me,” Agent seemed to be a way to say the opposite. 

May looked at her for so long Skye wanted to shrink up small. She didn't want to hide anything from Mommy: that went against all her instincts. But she was scared, and Leo had lied for her, and she didn't know what else to do. 

“I'll get you your pyjamas.” May's voice had changed, though it was still firm. “You need to sleep, Agent. Those are my orders.” 

Skye nodded. She drew her knees up to her chest. She'd been tired earlier, in quarantine, and when she'd sat with the others. Hearing them laugh had soothed her. But now she wasn't tired: her brain wouldn't stop. What was happening to her? What did the results mean? 

Had she become something bad, something evil? 

Even though she'd meant to go and brush her teeth, she stayed where she was, staring at nothing, until May came back. May put pyjamas, folded flat, on the bed next to Skye. They had little ducks on them, but Skye guessed that was OK. She didn't think she had any pyjamas that weren't cute. 

“Wear protection when you sleep.” May wasn't looking at her, but she put her hand briefly on the top of Skye's head before she left the room. 

_Protection_. They usually just said diapers. And, even though she was wearing a pull-up, Skye had kind of forgotten about that. She'd forgotten how bad she was at being an adult. She hugged her knees and felt another tear leaking out. Skye folded in on herself. She wanted her Mommy. She was so scared, there was something inside her and she didn't know what to do about it. 

Maybe she should leave? Maybe she should start running? Maybe that was the only answer? 

It took her a while to sit up again. She unfolded the pyjamas, and found, between the folds, two diapers and her special blanket. May had remembered everything. 

She could go find May now, say she was sorry, say she needed her. She could tell her everything. But Skye thought of Jemma's face, Jemma's words, and she was afraid. 

Maybe Daddy could help. She wanted Daddy, she wanted to snuggle up on Daddy's lap and have him rock her. But she'd be selfish to go to them. No one could trust her; she couldn't trust herself. 

There was something very wrong with her. 

She undressed slowly. She thought about leaving on the pull-up, since it was dry, but pull-ups sometimes leaked at night and she didn't know what to do with wet sheets. She hadn't put a diaper on herself in a long time. It took her a while to remember how, and she got one of the tabs wrong: it was too loose. She pulled her pyjama pants quickly over the top. Then she allowed herself to grab her blanket, to press it to her face. She sucked her thumb. 

She was reminded of being in her van, all alone. Alone on the dark street, and trying not to be scared, sucking her thumb and rocking herself, playing lullabies on her laptop. 

Even last night, when she'd been in quarantine, when no one could touch her, Daddy had been there. He'd talked to her, he'd even read her a story. She hadn't been alone. 

A knock. 

She hoped it was May, and she was afraid it would be May, because she wasn't sure she could say no again. She knew she wouldn't say no again. She just wanted to be with Mommy; she wished she were small enough for May to carry her and rock her. 

“Skye?”

Leo's voice. 

“Yeah.” Her own voice came out raw from all the crying earlier. 

He opened the door. Seeing him made her want to cry again, because he looked tired and a little lost, and Skye knew he didn't know what to do either. 

“Do you want to be … on your own?” 

“No. Being on my own just makes me think how scared I am.” Skye bit her lip. She wondered if she should tell him to go away too, if he wasn't safe with her either. She kept thinking of the moment before the lamp broke. 

Leo sat on the bed next to her. “You don't usually sleep alone.”

“I'm… I don't think I can be with Mommy if I'm keeping a secret from her.” 

_Mommy._ It just slipped out. Skye hadn't intended to sound so little. She covered her mouth, as though she could take it back. 

Leo put his hand on her shoulder. His touch was tentative, as though he might hurt her, but as Skye leant into the contact, his grip was more confident. She leant against his side. Her mouth felt trembly, her chin, her lips. She didn't feel safe. 

“I'm sorry, Leo.”

“Why?”

“I'm such a mess,” Skye whispered. She felt like she'd been saying that to people for months, years, her whole life. _I'm sorry I'm such a mess._ Her eyes were damp again. 

“Hey.” Leo stroked her back. “This is me you're talking to. You're not as much of a mess as me, not yet.” 

Skye sighed. “What if I hurt someone? Raina killed those people.” 

“But she's… she's never been one of the good guys. Not like you.” 

Skye nodded. She pressed her nose against his sweater. It smelt like machine oil. 

“If any of us...” Leo paused. His hand stroked her back, then stopped. “If any one I knew had to have powers, I'd pick you. You're the bravest, you're the...” 

She waited, not wanting to interrupt, but he didn't speak again. She didn't know what to say. She leant into him. She didn't feel brave at all. She felt small and frightened. She found Leo's other hand, and held on. Her fingers were trembling, and so were his. She felt them tremble together, two frightened children, two leaves on the wind. 

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight? It feels so weird in here.” 

She was afraid she'd freak him out by asking, but Leo just tightened his grip on her hand. “Yeah. You got everything you need?”

Skye put her tablet, the spare diaper and her blanket into a bag. “Ready.”

“Got your toothbrush?” Leo asked. 

“My teeth are clean,” Skye said, which was a lie. She was too tired to think about teeth, though she appreciated him asking. He was trying to take care of her. 

She hoped no one saw her slip into Leo's room in her duck pyjamas. They might come to entirely the wrong conclusions. 

She sat on the edge of Leo's bed, and took her blanket out of her bag. Holding it made her brave enough to ask, “What if I… What if I have a bad dream? And I'm upset and I hurt you? I nearly hurt you before.” 

“That was my fault.” Leo got his monkey out from under the pillow and held it. Skye was glad to see it. It looked familiar and safe in his arms. “I upset you, I was upset, it wasn't...” His mouth moved, wordlessly. 

Skye took his hand. “You were upset,” she repeated. “It's OK. I just… I'm scared, Leo.” 

“You need to sleep,” Leo said. “You can't sleep all by yourself.” 

He sounded uncertain, but Skye was happy to follow his suggestion. His bed wasn't as big as May's, but it was big enough for both of them, though they'd have to curl up close. Leo lay down. He opened his arms to her, like May did. He'd never done that before. 

Skye lay next to him, and shuffled backwards until she was pressed close to him. His arm went around her stomach. She felt his monkey against her, trapped between their bodies. 

What if I hurt you? Skye thought. She didn't ask it. It was too frightening to ask. She felt her chin trembling a little, not from tears, but maybe from fear. She put her hand on Leo's. “I'm kind of scared.” 

Leo reached around her and took her blanket. He brought it up to her face, letting the silky part touch her cheek. “This helps, right?” he said. 

Skye nodded. 

“You're OK, Skye. Pretend you're… pretend you're in a forest, full of snow, and you can just hear snow… drifts falling all muffled from trees. It's quiet and safe...”

“Sounds cold.”

“You're in a den, a den in the forest,” Leo said. 

Skye couldn't picture it. She felt so afraid, an ocean of feeling inside her, everything was wrong, so wrong, she wanted Mommy… But she pictured Leo, little Leo in a den in a forest, surrounded by quiet trees, and she listened to him breathe. He was warm against her. He was trying so hard. She nuzzled her blanket, and her eyes drifted shut.

When Leo woke her, it didn't seem like much time had passed. 

“Skye, Skye...” he was saying, and his eyes gleamed in the pale light, damp. 

She was wet—wet everywhere. She realised she'd been sweating. Her breath was coming in harsh pants, sore and sudden. Leo was holding her awkwardly, his hands too tight. “It's OK, Skye, it's just a dream, you were dreaming...”

Skye sat up, wriggling away from him. She was so wet, her chest damp, her face. She wanted Mommy, she wanted her Mommy so badly, to come and wash away her sweat with a cool cloth, and make her comfortable, and nurse her to sleep. Skye needed Mommy so much, she felt like she would just cry and cry until Mommy came and made everything OK. 

Her hands were trembling. Her chest, too. She took some slow breaths. “Good,” Leo was saying. He stroked her back. 

Not crying felt impossible. Skye felt like she might explore somehow, and she was afraid of the ocean inside, of the trembling ground. _What have I done? What am I?_

“I think...” Her voice wasn't there. She swallowed. “I need a shower, I'm gross, I'm sorry.” 

“Do you need me to come with you?”

She shook her head. It was so kind of him to ask, but she didn't want him with her. She wanted Mommy or no one. Besides, she didn't want Leo to see her naked. 

Leo's room didn't have a private bathroom the way Mommy's did. Skye had to go down the corridor, bare feet cold on the tiles. She hoped no one would see her. 

She peeled off her sweaty pyjamas, and threw away the diaper, which was soaked. It had maybe leaked a little where she hadn't put it on properly. She was shivering, the sweat drying on her skin, and she turned the shower on high and sat underneath it, hunched up, trying to make herself as small as possible. 

Her head throbbed. She let herself cry into the steam. 

Then the ground shook under her, a wobble, at first indiscernible, and then a tremor, and she felt the ocean within, huge and impossible to understand, this change. The ground all around her felt malleable and unstable. 

She was so afraid. 

She balled her hands into fists, digging fingernails into palms. Her skin stung under the bandage. She breathed. The tremor rose and then fell away, like a wave returning to the sea. She didn't understand what had happened. 

She was still crying, but it was different now. Somehow the tears were soothing, less panicked. 

Had she scared Leo, had the ground shook while she was dreaming? Did everyone feel it? What did they think? 

Mommy will fix it, the little part of her thought. Mommy fixes everything. 

Skye cried into her hands, because it wasn't true, not any more. She'd done something so big and so bad that Mommy couldn't fix it, and she felt so alone. 

She shivered, rocking herself, small and afraid. 

After a while, she remembered Leo and thought maybe he would be worried about her. She hadn't remember to bring a spare diaper or clean clothes to the bathroom with her, and her pyjamas were too icky to wear again. She wrapped herself in a towel, and padded back to Leo's room, dripping. 

He was sitting up with his tablet. He looked tired. 

Skye wasn't sure what to do with her hands. Her hair was cold against her skin. “Leo...” she looked at the floor. “Did I break anything while I was dreaming?”

There was a pause. She couldn't look at him. “You were shaking against me,” he said. “But nothing broke, Skye.” 

She twisted the towel between her fingers. _Mommy. Daddy._ She needed to go back to bed, she needed to be a big girl. 

“You're shivering again,” Leo said. “Get dressed. I won't look.”

Skye nibbled her lip. “I don't have any clean clothes.” 

“Borrow something of mine. There are t-shirts in the top drawer.” 

She found one that mostly covered her diaper, too, though Leo had a slight frame and his clothes weren't as baggy on her as Coulson's. 

“I don't know if I can sleep.” She tugged at her wet hair. “Maybe I should go back to my own bunk. I'll keep you up.” 

“Come here,” Leo said, firmly, pulling back the bed-covers. 

Skye got in next to him. She was grateful: she didn't want to be by herself. 

“God, your feet are freezing,” Leo said when her toes brushed his foot. He took one in his hand, and rubbed it gently. Skye pressed up against him, glad of his warmth, his touch. 

“Thank you,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you.”

He didn't anything. He rubbed her toes until they were warm. She leant against his chest. Her thumb slipped into her mouth and she sucked softly. She hadn't wanted to seem too little in front of Leo, but she was snuggled against him in a diaper, so she guessed sucking her thumb wouldn't matter. 

“Remember the story we were making up? About the elephant with powers?” Leo asked. 

Skye laughed, a little hollow sound. It felt so long ago. They'd been curled up in bed next to Coulson, on a mission, and they'd woken up and resolved to let Coulson sleep. At first they'd played games, and then they'd begun telling each other a story, one that got increasingly absurd, about an elephant that could grow bigger and smaller, and fly. 

“Anthony the elephant,” Skye said. “I think the last time we talked about him, he was stuck in a chimney.”

“Poor Anthony.” Leo leant back against the headboard, and Skye tucked herself in against him. “He'll have to shrink down to the size of a mouse.” 

They didn't sleep again until it was almost light out, and Skye could hear the tiredness in Leo's voice, and she felt guilty. But she held onto him, and held onto the story of the ridiculous elephant, and she got through the night.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction fic to S02E12

SKYE

“It's OK, I've got you.” 

Skye's head hurt. It hurt so much she didn't want to move or to open her eyes in case she made it worse. She felt Mommy's hand on her cheek, and for a second she was disoriented. She felt safe: she was sick, but Mommy was looking after her. 

And then she understood the splitting pain behind her eyes: it was the dendrotoxin, and she knew she'd shot herself with the ICER. She was still locked up here, in the same place they'd kept Ward. 

She felt a little like she might throw up. May was stroking her cheek, her forehead, and she didn't want to move, didn't want to think about anything except May's hands. Maybe May would go away once she realised Skye was awake and alive. 

“It's OK,” May said again. “You're safe, Skye.” 

Skye opened her eyes a crack. Bad idea. The world swam, the pain a sickening blue light behind her eyes and temples. 

She tried to form words, but she wasn't sure what she could say. She managed, finally, to whisper in a hoarse voice. “Mommy?” 

“Your head must be sore,” May said. “Simmons said you'd be uncomfortable. Here.” She touched a cup of water to Skye's lips, and Skye took a tiny sip. It was followed by two pills placed against her tongue. Skye wanted to squirm away from that, because pills were icky, but the big part of her kept her still, and she swallowed them with another sip of water. 

May didn't say anything else. She kept stroking Skye's hair and forehead, her fingers gentle and cool. Skye shut her eyes, focusing on the touch, and the security of knowing May was there. Unfortunately, as she began to feel better, her thoughts became clearer, and none of her thoughts were good. 

She sat up carefully. Her head swam again, bursts of colour appearing behind her eyelids. Then it eased, and she opened her eyes. “May.” She swallowed. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“Only yourself.” 

That was something, at least. “Is she… is Lady Sif gonna take me away?” She meant to ask the question calmly, but her voice came out wobbly and little. 

“No, baby,” May said. She put her hand back on Skye's shoulder. Skye wanted to burrow into May's arms, but she wasn't sure if it was allowed right now. She was in trouble, and it was scary. The things she'd done were so big and so bad: they were so adult and terrible, and she had to deal with them like an adult. But at the same time, she just felt so small, she wanted her Mommy. 

When she'd sat up, she'd felt her pull-up squish underneath her. She must have wet it while she was out, which wasn't any surprise, but it didn't help make her feel big. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” she whispered. “I was so scared.”

May sighed. “I know. I know you were scared.” 

Skye's headache was definitely at more tolerable levels, eased by the quiet room and the pills. But she still felt sore, and she was trembly, and she was afraid to ask what was going to happen, what they were going to do next. She knew she was dangerous; she knew she was bad. 

“Mommy?” she said in her smallest voice. She wanted to cry. Mommy and Daddy had said they would look after her, always, but she wasn't sure if they meant it right now. They hadn't expected something like this to happen. She'd changed. The promise they'd made had been to a whole other person. 

“Yes, baby?”

Skye didn't know what she wanted. May had called her _baby_ twice now, and that helped. Mommy wouldn't call her that it if she was going to abandon her, would she? Skye hugged herself, trying to make herself as little as possible and then wriggled towards May on the narrow bed. For a moment, Skye was afraid May might not want to hold her, but she opened her arms and drew her close. 

Skye pressed her nose into Mommy's chest. She whimpered a little, and then sucked her thumb, because she didn't want to cry. Mommy rocked her, and Skye let herself be soothed. She didn't want to get upset again. What if she made another tremor? And if she cried, her head would hurt even more. 

“It's dark down here,” Skye murmured. She fisted her fingers in Mommy's shirt. 

“I know.”

“I don't like the dark.” She was afraid of it: in her room, Mommy always set up a night-light. In the dark, Skye always saw shadows with teeth, monsters who wanted to hurt her. 

“I know, baby,” Mommy said. But she didn't say they could leave. She didn't tell Skye not to be afraid. 

PHIL

One of the first things Phil did when he got back was to change the privacy settings for the monitors of the safe room on the Bus. Now only he or May could access the video feed. Skye needed privacy. 

But Phil found himself watching his little girl on the monitor, even though he wanted to give her space. She was lying on the bed, facing away from the door. He could only see her back from this camera angle, but he knew she wasn't sleeping. Sometimes her hands moved, and he could see her elephant under one arm. 

“She's afraid of the dark,” Melinda said. She'd come in without him hearing her. 

“I know.” 

On the screen, Skye wriggled a little, winding her special blanket in her first. He watched her suck her thumb, desperately trying to self-soothe. It made his chest ache. 

“I don't want to leave her alone,” he admitted. 

“Me neither. The idea was to keep her safe in there, keep her away from us, until we have a better handle on what we're dealing with.” 

“I hate that plan. She's calmer when she's with us. She needs to know she's loved.” 

“I know,” May said. 

“I'm going to...” Phil swallowed. “I'm going to go and look after her.” 

“I'll keep watch, then.” 

Phil touched her arm briefly. “We'll have to talk to Leo, too. And Jemma.” 

“Skye first,” Melinda said. 

Phil agreed. Once he'd left May's side, he felt like he couldn't get to Skye fast enough. 

When he opened the door, Skye sat up at once, pushing her blanket behind her in a futile attempt to hide it. “Is something wrong, sir?” 

“No.” Phil sat beside her. He felt anxious, but he tried to keep his voice calm and even. He wanted to approach her gently, to make her feel safe. “We just got back. You didn't have to lock yourself in right away.” 

Skye shrugged. “They don't want me around. Anyway, it's safer when I'm in here.” 

Phil picked up the elephant that Skye had unsuccessfully hidden with her pillow. “What does Ada think?” 

Skye squirmed, ducking her head away from him. “I'm trying to be big, sir, but it's really hard.” 

The urge to scoop her up in his arms was overwhelming. Phil touched her cheek, and then gave in, hugging her close. Skye was stiff against him, tense, but she clung on tight, fisting her hands in his shirt. He felt her chest heave, and he realised she was crying. 

It felt like too long since he'd held her, taken care of her properly. He pressed his nose against the top of her head, pulling her as close as he could. She was warm in his arms, dense with muscles, but she felt small. He couldn't believe he hadn't been able to protect her from what had happened, that he hadn't kept her safe. Her sobs were small, like she was trying to keep them in, and he whispered to her that it was OK, that he was here, that she could cry if she needed to. 

After a little while, he felt Skye relax, her breaths evening out, though they still hitched into sobs from time to time. Her death-grip on his shirt loosened a little. He kept stroking her back, whispering nonsense to her. 

“D—Daddy,” Skye whispered. She drew a shuddering breath. “Want my blanket.” 

“It's right here, sweetheart,” Phil said. He pressed the precious piece of cloth into her hands and Skye clung to it tightly. Her thumb went into her mouth, and her breathing steadied as she sucked it. 

“I'm right here with you. I won't leave you alone unless you want me to.” Phil kept stroking her back. “No one can monitor us in here except May. It's just you and me, and I'm here to take care of you.” 

Skye wriggled on his lap, settling her head against her shoulder. The fingers of one hand returned to his shirt, clinging to the cloth, as though she was afraid he might try to escape. 

“What if I'm a… I'm a bad thing, Daddy? What if I'm going to hurt people?”

Phil sighed. “You remember when I was sick, Skye? When I was writing on the walls?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“May came up with a plan to take care of me, if things got bad. She said she was going to take me away, somewhere safe, where I couldn't hurt anyone. She said she'd look after me. And at the time, I didn't understand how she could do that. How she could give up everything to look after me.”

He kissed Skye's forehead. “Now I understand. I'll take care of you, somehow, no matter what happens.” 

Skye ducked her head. He felt her sigh again, a little, desperate shudder going through her. “Daddy...” she murmured. Phil hugged her tightly, clinging to her like she clung to the blanket. He'd almost lost her, twice, in such quick succession. It was too much. He wanted to run away now, to take her with him and keep her safe, and forget about everything else. 

“Anyway,” he said quickly. “I can't imagine you being bad, sweetheart. People do have powers: you're not the first person this has happened to, and we're going to figure it out.” 

He wasn't completely sure what they'd do, but this was hardly the first time he'd met someone with powers. He'd worked with the Avengers: he knew that people could have super-powers and cope and even become heroes, but he also knew that even the biggest heroes could be isolated and afraid. He wasn't exactly sure what they were going to do, but he knew he'd come up with something. He wasn't going to let anyone take her or hurt her. 

“I'm scared.” Skye squirmed a little against him, her words muffled around her thumb. 

“Me too,” Phil admitted. “But we'll look after each other, won't we?” 

“Uh-huh.” Skye didn't sound sure. 

“And Ada will be there if we need any extra help. Elephants are very wise.” Phil settled Ada on Skye's knee. 

She smiled a little, taking her thumb out so she could grab hold of the elephant's ear. “She is pretty smart. Sometimes she helps me with complicated hacks.”

“Does she? Maybe we should put her on the pay-role.” Phil kept his voice light, glad Skye could be distracted. 

Skye shook her head. “Elephants don't get paid.”

“They don't?” 

“Well, only in peanut-butter sandwiches.” 

“Those are very tasty.”

He felt Skye wriggle against him again. “Grapes too, sometimes. But mostly she just likes to solve puzzles, like me.” 

“Maybe we should find you some puzzles to work on while you're in here.” He smoothed back her hair. “Do you need to go to the bathroom, kiddo?” 

Skye ducked her head right down, hair hiding her face. “Umm… I'm wet.” 

“That's OK,” Phil said gently. It was good to have a problem he could solve. “Did you bring your diaper bag?”

“It's under the bunk,” Skye said. She lay down on the bed, popping her thumb into her mouth again. She was clearly letting Phil take over, and he was glad. He wanted to take care of her; he wanted to make her feel safe. 

*

May stayed with Skye when he went out to find dinner and something to keep Skye's mind occupied. For months, Skye had been a lot closer to Melinda than she was to him, which he knew was all his fault. He'd been so preoccupied with work and with his illness, and he hadn't found a way to look after her, too. Thinking about it now made him feel lonely and inadequate. 

Skye had looked a little anxious when she saw May, but she held out her arms for a hug, and May had responded warmly. Phil had left them curled up together, Melinda getting out a book to read with Skye. 

Phil planned to make some simple sandwiches, and bring Skye some fruit and treats too. He wanted to have a bottle ready too, in case she needed it later. Jemma was in the kitchen when he got in, cooking rice, her eyes glazed over. 

He greeted her gently, but Jemma jerked upright, and said, “Good evening, Director.” 

“I'm just going to make some snacks for Skye and me. I don't think we feel like a proper dinner this evening.”

“I'll get out of your way, sir,” Jemma said, turning off the pan. 

“Jemma.” Phil put his hand out, stalling her. “You don't have to go. You could come and eat with us.”

Jemma looked at the floor. “That's not a good idea.” 

“Skye isn't mad at you. She's just scared. I think we all are.”

Jemma wouldn't meet his eyes. “I can't...” She stopped, drawing a breath. “I can't right now. I need to think.” 

She was holding herself stiff, all elbows and sharp angles, and Phil was worried about her. He knew how anxious she could be, how much she struggled to ask for help. He knew she was frightened too, and confused, and he wanted to make her talk about it, to help her calm down. 

But he didn't want to push her. He didn't want to make her feel trapped, or feel like she had to run away if she wanted some space. “All right,” he said gently. “I'm here if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said and, after a pause, added, “Phil.” 

She left in a rush, leaving the vegetables she'd chopped and the pan of rice out on the counter. Phil carefully put them to one side, hoping she'd come back and eat properly. He settled down to making sandwiches: peanut-butter, since Skye had mentioned it, cheese and celery, and some pastrami and pickles. He took some grapes, and found a box of cookies in the back of one of the cupboards, where he'd hidden it a few weeks ago. 

Skye was curled up against Melinda, small and pale, her eyes red. The door slammed behind him, and the safe room felt like what it was: a cage, a prison. Skye shivered a little. Phil wanted to carry her out right away, bring her down to the bedroom where she belonged. 

Instead, he did his best to smile. “Cheese and celery, to start?” he suggested, holding out the plate. 

Skye turned her head away. “Peanut-butter?” she said after a moment. “I'll have grapes too, that's healthy.” 

Phil opened the laptop and found some Disney movies. He started up _Dumbo_ , but Skye's face wavered as soon as she heard the opening theme, and she began to cry within the first three minutes. Phil shut it off again. “I thought you liked that one, baby,” he said, rubbing her back. 

“ _How to Train Your Dragon_ is usually a hit right now,” May said, brushing Skye's hair back from her cheeks, and planting a kiss on her temple. 

Skye didn't say anything at all, and she didn't eat either. She held onto both of them, one hand gripping May's wrist, the other hand holding Phil's shirt, staring at nothing. 

Phil tried to feed her some grapes, but she turned her face away. “Ada wants them,” she said, focusing her eyes on the screen. 

“I think Ada wants you to eat,” Phil said. 

“I'm going to give you a bottle,” Melinda said firmly. “And once you feel more relaxed, Phil will help you eat your sandwich, and I'm going to go back to work.”

“Don't go.” Skye tilted her head back, leaning on May's shoulder. 

“Someone has to keep an eye on the others, baby,” May said. “I have work to do.” 

Skye's face wavered, but she didn't argue. Phil watched as Melinda helped Skye to settle on her lap. She held the bottle at an easy angle, and Skye latched on, sucking softly. The comforting sounds of the movie played in the background, and it made the room feel less bleak. But Phil was feeling guilty: even over the last few weeks, he hadn't been around enough. He couldn't settle his girl as easily as May could; he didn't even know what she liked to watch when she was upset. 

But when the bottle was half empty, Skye reached out and took Phil's hand, and he gathered her up onto his lap. She snuggled against him easily, her body going limp. It felt good to hold her again, to have her safe in his arms. 

“I'll finish my bottle later,” Skye said. She ducked her head, picking up Ada and hiding behind the elephant's fluffy ears. “Will you come back before bedtime, Mommy?”

“Of course,” Melinda said. 

The room was quieter, and smaller somehow, without May in it. Skye shrank against him, sucking her thumb. 

“Who's your favourite dragon?” Phil asked. “I haven't seen this movie before.”

“You haven't?” Skye looked up at him, eyes round. 

“Nope.”

“Wow, you've been working way too hard.” She settled back, holding her elephant to her chest, and nuzzling into Phil. She told him all about her favourite parts. He was able to get bites of sandwiches and grapes into her mouth between explanations. 

LEO

He wanted to knock on Jemma's door. He wanted to ask her to let him in, he wanted to explain everything to her. He wanted words to come easily: precise, complete sentences. He wanted to tell her gently that the way she'd been talking about people with powers was wrong. And he wanted her to know how scared Skye had been, how scared they'd both been. 

He thought about writing it all down first and giving it to her. But he didn't do anything. He paced around in the hall, and worried, and didn't talk at all. 

Leo hated being by himself. He liked company, even if he wasn't talking to someone. He'd loved when it was just him and Jemma in the lab. He'd work and listen to her working, too, in easy silence. She could look up and share ideas with him, and Leo would feel peaceful and warm. Now the silence was always tense between them, and he didn't know what to say to anyone, sometimes not even Mack. 

Especially not Mack, right now. Mack had been talking about Skye like she was bad too, scary, a thing to be put down. Leo didn't know what to do. He paced, unhappy. He wondered if he could visit Skye. He'd held her all night, he'd told her stories, he'd felt so safe with her. He didn't want to be on his own, he didn't want her to be on her own. He thought of them both, lost, isolated, scared. He thought about how they'd been changed by something they couldn't control. 

None of it was fair. 

He went to the Bus. He wanted to see Skye. Surely she was allowed visitors? Coulson wouldn't want her to be all by herself. At least he'd feel safe with her, they'd be safe together. 

“Leo.” May was on the Bus too, in the main area. He went over to where she was sitting. Over her shoulder, he could see that she was looking at a DNA scan. 

“Is that Skye's?” Leo asked softly. 

“Yes.” May sighed, pushing the tablet aside. “I can't make anything of it.” 

“Simmons will have more luck.” Leo brought his hand to his mouth, and chewed at it, anxiously. He wanted to work with Jemma, to talk to her, but he didn't know how. He missed her so much. His teeth dug into the soft skin around his finger. 

May stood up, and took his hand away from his mouth. She turned his hands over, and looked at the reddish patches where he'd chewed the skin around his nails, his rough knuckles, and at the little holes he'd worn in the sleeves of his sweater. 

“I'm going to have to get you a teething toy,” she said. Her fingers were warm on his, and she didn't let him go. 

“I don't, uh...” Leo looked down. “I don't need that.” 

“This must hurt,” May said, touching his bruised thumb. Her voice was soft, and Leo wanted to take another step forward, maybe sink into a hug. 

Get a grip, he said to himself, firmly. 

“I want to...” Leo swallowed. “I want to see Skye. Is she OK?”

May smiled. “She's with Phil. I'll take you.” 

Leo was glad he was going to see Phil too: he realised that he missed Phil's calm presence, that he'd longed for Phil's reassurances, even if he didn't want to ask for them. There wasn't really time for that, anyway. 

May held his hand all the way to the Cage, as though he needed her guidance. Leo didn't try to pull away. After all, it wasn't his fault if May wanted to hold onto him. 

Skye was sitting next to Phil on the bunk, curled up against him, but she smiled and stood up when she saw Leo. “You're here! Are you OK?”

“I'm fine.” Leo was glad that she wanted to see him. She put her arms out towards him, tentatively, as if she wasn't sure he'd want to touch her, but he hugged her at once. It was nice to have her against him, to press his face into her shoulder. She was OK, she was safe, they both were. 

He was glad, too, that Phil and May were there, that he wasn't in charge. 

“We were watching Dragons,” Skye said. “I know you're bored of Dragons.” 

She pulled back, but kept her hand on his arm. 

“I can stick a bit of it. Maybe we can watch something else after,” Leo said. 

Skye sat down basically on top of Phil on the bunk, and Leo sat down next to both of them. Phil smiled at him over Skye's head. “I'm glad you came,” he said. “I was going to come and find you.” 

“I'm here,” Leo said. He wasn't little, not like Skye, he didn't really need comfort, but still, he allowed himself to drift a little close to Phil. Phil removed one arm from around Skye, and put it around Leo's shoulders instead. 

“I'll be back to check on you guys soon,” May said, slipping out the door. When it shut behind her, the room seemed more like a prison to Leo, and he felt a jolt of fear. He didn't want Skye to be locked up, not ever, not even the people who loved her. It felt all wrong. 

He couldn't concentrate on the dragons, but Skye seemed happy to stare at them for the millionth time. He looked up at Phil instead. 

“I'm glad you took care of Skye yesterday,” Phil said softly. 

“I thought you might be angry about it.” 

“I don't know if you made the best decision,” Phil said. “But you guys were scared, and you did the best thing you could think of. And you kept each other safe.” 

Leo nodded. “It was scary,” he whispered. 

Phil touched Leo's cheek. “It's going to be OK, kiddo. We're going to figure this out.” 

Leo wasn't sure how they were going to do that. But he felt calm, sitting with Phil and Skye, and he wasn't alone. The dragons flew over across the screen, and Skye held his hand.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction fic to S02E13.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having kind of a hard time while I was writing this, so it may not be my best work. I wanted to write something about this week's episode though, so hopefully this is OK.

SKYE

The first time she'd seen a shrink, Skye must have been pretty small, because she remembered her feet not touching the ground when she sat down. There had been toys on the table—sticky and chipped, the kind that had already been played with by too many kids. And the room had smelt like modelling clay and paint and sweat. Skye swung her legs and stared at the floor. 

“Mary-Sue...” the shrink began. 

“That's not my name,” Skye had said. She was sucking her thumb, even though the nuns told her off for it. 

The shrink had piles of paper in front of her. She was busy: Skye'd had to wait ages, and there were other kids still waiting outside. “I see you've had a rather unsettled time these past few months.” 

“Larch didn't want me,” Skye said, around her thumb. She knew she should take it out, but she felt anxious, and her head hurt. “She didn't want me cos I'm bad.” 

Sister Bernadette kept telling her that wasn't true. “You're not bad, sweetie, sometimes things just don't work out.” Sister Maria said, “I don't want to hear another word about it. Why don't you ask God to help you be better behaved?” Sister Agnes didn't say anything at all. 

“Why do you have your thumb in your mouth?” the shrink said. 

Skye remember the other kids saying, “Mary has to go to a shrink because she's a pissy-pants baby. They're going to lock her up in the dark and give her mouldy bread!” She didn't think that was true, but she was still nervous. 

She slid her thumb out so it just touched her lips. “It feels nice?” she said, her nerves turning it into a question. “Is it bad?” 

“It's not bad, but you're too old to do it,” the shrink said. “Now, I just have a few questions for you, and then you'll get a lollipop. How does that sound?” 

It hadn't sounded good then, and it still seemed like a pretty bad offer. Skye shifted uncomfortably on the bed in the Cage. May's ex, the shrink, was watching her. She betted he was mentally taking note of every movement she made and marking them as symptoms. Shrinks were so sneaky like that. And she wouldn't even get a dumb lollipop now, just a report and a frown. 

“I just want it to go away,” Skye said. She could barely remember the question he'd asked, but this seemed like an OK answer. “I felt like my life was finally working out, and then...” She didn't know how to finish. She felt too much like the little girl in the office, afraid she'd be locked up in the dark. 

“What was your life like before? What does 'working out' mean?” Andrew asked. 

Skye sighed. She kind of wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but that wouldn't be very mature. Even more than that, she wanted to suck her thumb, make herself small and get under the bed and pretend none of this existed at all. 

“I don't know.” She fiddled with the edge of the blanket—not her special blanket, just the regular old blanket on her bed. It didn't help much. 

Andrew didn't say anything. He let the silence go on and on. Shrinks did that, Skye remembered—just let the quiet go on forever, until it got so loud and oppressive, you would say something just to break it. She wouldn't, though. She could out-wait him. 

The silence stretched. She nibbled her lip. 

“What do you think your Mommy would say if she knew you weren't co-operating?” 

Skye's heart thudded in her chest. Her Mommy? He couldn't know—May wouldn't have told him that, surely? “I don't have a Mom,” she said quickly. “I'm an orphan, remember? You should've read my file. You guys never bother to do your homework.” 

Andrew paused again, and in the silence she wanted to yell some more. Or hide in the corner, since her secret was maybe already out. 

“I know about littles,” Andrew said softly. “And I know it's personal, Skye. But it's an important part of you, and I can't help you if I don't know about it.” 

Skye drew her knees up to her chest and leant her head on them. “Do you think I'm bad? Do you think I'm disturbed? Dr Lacey thought I was disturbed.” 

“No, Skye. I think you've found a healthy way of coping with overwhelming emotions.” 

Skye chewed her thumbnail. That was better than thinking she was disturbed, but it didn't seem like a good description, either. Mostly, she felt like a little kid pretending really hard that she was big. It was scary. 

“I don't wanna talk to you.” Her voice came out small, childish. She hated it. 

“Do you have any toys that make you feel safer?” 

She didn't want to show him her blanket, or Ada Lovelace, either. She didn't trust him, and she felt too exposed. She shrugged, staring really hard at her knees. Her chest hurt, but it had been hurting a lot these days. It didn't mean anything. 

“I have some more questions I need to ask you,” Andrew said. “But I want to make this as comfortable for you as possible.”

“It's never going to be comfortable.” Skye tugged at the edge of the bedding. Her silky blanket would feel so soothing between her fingers right now. Maybe she could just rub the very edge of it, and he wouldn't notice? It was right there under her pillow. 

“Maybe you'd like to do some drawing with me?” Andrew said. He was using a gentler voice now, a voice more suitable for talking to a kid. Skye wasn't sure what she felt about it—but she could feel herself slipping a little. She hadn't been big much in the past few days. It was too hard. 

“Did May have other littles before me?” Skye asked suddenly. She'd asked Mommy and Daddy that before, and they'd never told her the whole truth. 

“I've got marker pens.” Andrew opened his briefcase. “How about some drawing?” 

Skye hadn't drawn anything in a long time. She nibbled at the pad of her thumb. 

“Maybe you could draw one of your dreams for me?” 

Being talked to like a kid shouldn't have helped, but it kind of did. “If I draw a picture, will you stop asking questions?” 

“I won't ask questions for the next ten minutes. How about that?” 

At first Skye didn't know what to draw. It felt strange and awkward. Even the coloured marker in her hand felt weird, because she hadn't done any colouring or drawing in months, and she typed everything else. But after a little while, she found she could focus on the page. Andrew wasn't looking at her. He'd taken a file out of his briefcase and was reading it. That made her feel safer. She sneaked her left hand under her pillow, and tugged out her blanket, rubbing her fingers quickly over the silky part. 

That helped her concentrate too. She began to draw. At first it was just shapes, and then she realised what she was making—a picture of one of the monsters that frightened her so much, a shadow with teeth. She wasn't very good at drawing, and it was hard to make it look right. But she used the black and red pens loads, and by the time she was done, she thought it looked pretty scary. 

It also looked childish and stupid, and Skye felt embarrassed. He was probably going to think she was psychotic or something. 

“May I see?” Andrew looked up at her. 

Skye squirmed. 

“Wow,” he said, when she handed him the paper. “These look like very scary feelings.” 

“They're not feelings,” Skye snapped. “They're monsters.” 

“It must be really hard to cope with monsters like this,” Andrew said gently. “What do you do?”

Skye didn't want to talk about it—the nightmares, the wet beds, needing Mommy. But she didn't know what else to say. “Can you help me?” she said at last. “Can you help me with my powers?”

“I don't know. I'll try.” 

“Do you really think it's OK that I'm little?” Skye realised she was squeezing her blanket in her lap, her fingers buried in the satin. Her chest felt hot and tight, but her heart wasn't pounding—she was OK, she wasn't letting this overwhelm her. Even now, she was getting better at control. 

“Yes, Skye,” he said. “I think it's healthy.” 

So she told him—about the monsters, about living in her van, so afraid and alone, about coming here and meeting Jemma, and how things had changed. He listened, and asked questions, and Skye had to admit that at least they weren't totally stupid questions. 

At the end, all he said was, “You're a good kid, Skye. And you're a strong woman. I'm going to give my report to you and to May, and we'll talk some more.” 

Skye curled up really small on the bed, her blanket under her cheek. She didn't feel strong at all, or good, or whatever it was he'd said. 

Maybe Phil understood that, because Andrew hadn't been gone long when he showed up. Skye was sucking her thumb, her head spinning. 

“How are you doing, baby?” Phil asked. “You want some lunch?” 

She didn't want lunch. She just wanted a hug. But she couldn't get the words out. Phil sat next to her on the bed. Skye slipped her thumb most of the way out of her mouth. “I didn't want to see a shrink. Shrinks are mean.”

Phil smoothed her hair, fingertips scratched gently at her scalp. That always made Skye feel safe and relaxed, but she tried to focus. Phil said, “Was Andrew mean?”

“Uh-uh. Only mean cos he's a shrink, and you can't trust him. He might say bad things to you about me.” Skye sat up, alarmed. What if he did say awful things about her? That's what had happened before and then maybe Phil would think she was a bad girl, and maybe think she was a bad agent too, and she'd have to leave...

Skye felt her chest getting hot and tight and she took some slow breaths and focused on a point, like May told her. 

“If he says bad things, I won't believe him,” Phil said. He went back to stroking her hair. “You're not bad, Skye.” 

“The shrink at the orphanage said I was disturbed. And bad.” Skye cuddled her blanket close, remembering it. 

“I know,” Phil said gently. “I've read all your files. I know that everything she said about you was wrong.”

“You do?”

“Come here.” Phil opened his arms, and Skye uncurled herself long enough so that she could crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry she made you feel bad, baby. She wasn't a good doctor, and she had no business talking to vulnerable kids like you.” 

“She was mean.” Skye's thumb had gone into her mouth without her realising it, and her words came out muffled. 

“She was,” Phil agreed. “And if Andrew says bad things about you, we'll know he's mean too, because you're a good girl. But I think maybe he'll help.”

“OK,” Skye said. She shut her eyes, snuggling in as close to Phil as she could. She almost believed him. “You're a good Daddy too,” she added, just so Phil knew. 

Phil kissed her forehead. “Thank you, baby.” 

Skye felt tired after all the talking. She thought she could stay here forever, being held by Phil. But her tummy had other ideas: it grumbled loudly. 

“Lunch time,” Phil said. 

Skye yawned. “Will you feed me?” She felt too little to cope with doing it all by herself. She mostly just wanted to lie down. 

Phil stroked her cheek. “Sure.”

JEMMA

Skye was clearly barely holding it together. Jemma could see in her too-bright eyes, and her trembly fingers. It made Jemma kind of nervous, which wasn't fair. But being around Skye had made her nervous ever since she'd found out about Skye's powers. Skye was different—maybe she'd always been different. Jemma thought of all the times she'd slept snuggled in Skye's bed, and even though she knew this Skye was the same, it felt like she'd been with a whole other person. 

When Andrew went out, May put her hand on Skye's forehead, and Skye made a little whimpering sound in her throat and said, “Mommy.” 

Jemma knew Skye was hurting. She knew Skye had been through too much. But at the same time, she wished for a moment she was Skye, with May looking down at her so tenderly. She hadn't had hugs in ages. And it was her own fault—she hadn't gone looking for them, she'd even turned Phil and May away when they tried to talk to her. But she still felt lonely. 

“What am I gonna do?” Skye said in a tiny voice. 

“We'll work it out.” May was firm. 

Skye tried to bring her hand to her mouth. But it must have hurt her, because she winced, and dropped it back on the pillow. And suddenly she was crying—tiny, husky sobs, like she was afraid of crying properly. 

Jemma felt her heart in her throat. What if Skye made the room quake again? It was so scary when that happened. 

“I can't suck my thumb,” Skye said, her voice small and frightened. “It hurts.” She sobbed again. “God, this is so stupid. But how am I going to cope if I can't suck my thumb?”

May looked sad, and worried, and she wasn't saying anything, just petting Skye's hair. Jemma thought Skye probably had a headache, she'd feel sick and a bit foggy, and it was no wonder she felt so little and overwhelmed. 

“Um...” Jemma's voice came out small, but Skye looked at her at once, as though she'd maybe forgotten Jemma was in her room. “I'll get you something to help.” 

Jemma felt a little bit like she was going to cry too when she stepped out of the room. Skye looked so small and so frightened, and Jemma needed to help her but she didn't really know how. It was so much. 

But if Skye couldn't suck her thumb, she could at least suck a pacifier, and Jemma could help her with that. 

She'd been trying really hard to be big, even when she was by herself. When she'd been spying on Hydra, she'd managed to be big most of the time, but she'd never been able to sleep without her tiger and dummy. She still really missed Jean-Baptiste: she sometimes imagined him alone in her little flat and she wanted to cry. Now, she still couldn't sleep without her dummies, no matter how hard she tried. Sometimes she put a pull-up on too and soothed herself to sleep. 

So her dummies were still safely in her drawer. There were two at the front she used most of the time, so she took out two other ones she hadn't used much at all. One had a tiger on it, and one had a little mouse. She hid them in the pocket of her lab coat. 

Back in the Cage, Skye had her head in May's lap. Her hands were held awkwardly by her sides, and there were tears streaked over her cheeks. She'll need more pain-killers soon, Jemma thought. An injection would be best, but she hates that when she's little. 

Bringing the dummies felt kind of stupid, but Skye looked very vulnerable, and that helped Jemma feel like it was OK to have them. Skye would never judge her for this. 

“Do you like tigers or mice?” Jemma asked. 

Skye peeked up at Jemma. “Tigers, I guess.” 

Jemma held out the pacifier on the palm of her hand. Skye didn't take it, she just blinked up at Jemma, but May took it, and gently touched it to Skye's lips. Skye accepted it, and began to suck on it—slowly at first, and then fiercely, as thought she desperately needed all the comfort it could give her. 

Jemma wasn't sure whether she should stay or go. But Skye looked up at her, dark eyes still wet, her head pressed against May's thigh. “What if we read a story?” she said, spitting out the dummy so she could speak. 

May caught it before it fell on the floor. “We could do that.” 

“Jemma needs to be there too. She's been hiding and it's stupid and I'm too tired.” Skye tried to stretch out her arm towards Jemma, but she winced and let it fall. 

May stroked Skye's cheek, fondly, but said, “Jemma makes her own decisions, Skye.” 

Jemma touched her pocket, where the blue dummy with the mouse on it still lived. She wanted to sit down with Skye and hug her and pretend everything was OK—but nothing was OK, and she was afraid. 

Skye looked at Jemma and then up at May. “What if we have waffles for dinner?”

“That's not very healthy.”

Skye's lip wobbled. Jemma wondered if she was pretending—but Jemma didn't think she was. Skye seemed too little to handle anything right now. It made Jemma's head hurt: she didn't feel responsible enough to care for Skye's little self, as well as Skye's sick, adult self. 

Jemma jerked the dummy out of her pocket and popped it into her mouth. It tasted stale, like cloth, and she sucked hard, before taking it out and saying, “Please, waffles. We can have fruit too.” 

“Sit here, Jemma,” May said, in the special Mommy tone of voice she hadn't used on Jemma in a while. It was a relief to do as she was told—Jemma squeezed herself in next to May on the narrow bed. May put her arms around Jemma, and she felt herself stiffen for a moment, not knowing, somehow, what to do with her body. 

But then she relaxed, and leant her head on May's shoulder, and felt May's hand rubbing little circles onto her back. Skye yawned, nuzzling her nose against May's thigh. “Pacifiers feel funny,” she said. “Kind of squeaky.” 

They did not. “They can't feel squeaky. That's a sound, not a feeling.”

Skye shook her head. “No, they do feel squeaky. Sort of dry and squeaky at the same time. And too small.” 

“They feel nice.” She's so ungrateful, Jemma thought, I'm lending her a dummy of my own, and she's complaining. 

“It's OK,” Skye admitted. Then peeked up at Jemma, letting the dummy fall from her lips, and smiled. “You look cute with one.” 

Skye's smile was very sweet, but Jemma blushed and hid her face against May's shoulder. She didn't feel cute at all. 

May seemed to understand that the attention was hard. She kept holding Jemma, but she asked Skye questions, like whether she was tired, did she need painkillers, was she wet. 

Skye's answer to all of them was, “I don't know.” 

May popped the dummy back into Skye's mouth. When she tried to move away, Skye whimpered, and Jemma found herself clinging more tightly to May, too, fisting her fingers in May's clothes. 

“I'm not going far,” May said, easing Skye's head off her lap. Jemma let go, too, because she was supposed to be the big one, but she didn't want to. Skye tried to lever herself upright when May stood up, but she made a little sound of pain and flopped down again. 

Jemma touched Skye's shoulder. She felt weird about touching her: for so long, she'd only touched her to get a blood sample. Now she wasn't sure if Skye would want her, but Skye leant towards her eagerly, and they ended up snuggled together, Skye half in Jemma's lap, Jemma fitting herself around Skye. It was warm; it felt nice. 

Jemma's throat burned, the way it did when she was going to cry. But she had no reason to cry. Her heart was beating just a little too hard. She wanted to go hide somewhere—maybe in the blanket fort, with Skye. Except Skye wasn't supposed to leave the room. 

“It must be scary,” Jemma said softly. She wasn't sure what she meant: everything, maybe. 

Skye wriggled a little. “Mommy, where's my blanket?” 

Blanket and Ada Lovelace were tucked beside Skye on the bed. Skye wanted to rub her blanket in her fingers, but her hands hurt her too much. Jemma put it under Skye's cheek. Skye sighed. “It is scary. I saw a shrink today. That was scary, too.”

“I thought he seemed nice,” Jemma said. May had got out the changing supplies for Skye: Jemma could smell lotion, familiar and soft. 

“Uh-uh. He was a _psychiatrist_.” Skye emphasised the last word like it explained everything. Jemma had had a psych evaluation before she joined the academy: it was normal procedure. And it'd been fine, the psychiatrist had been really friendly. But she didn't want to argue. 

“He knew I'm little,” Skye added. She wriggled awkwardly on the bed. She was trying to help May to change her, but she was too sore right now. She sighed, chewing at her lip. The dummy had fallen out and was on Jemma's lap. 

“He knew you were little?” Jemma repeated, partly to distract Skye, and partly because that did sound pretty embarrassing. 

“He said it was part of my evaluation. He made me do a drawing.” 

“You like drawing.” Though they hadn't drawn for a long time, Jemma remembered Skye curled happily over a paper, designing a castle. 

“It was OK. It wasn't as bad as when I saw other shrinks. At the orphanage, they said I was bad.” 

“That wasn't true. Was it, May?” Jemma said. She wasn't sure what to do when Skye talked like that. 

“If I get waffles, will you take your painkillers without complaining?” May had finished Skye's change, and tucked the covers back up around her. 

Skye kicked at them. “I dunno if I'm hungry.”

“I'll take that as a yes,” May said. She bent, and kissed Skye's forehead. “And you were never, ever bad, baby.” 

“I'm the one who's bad,” Jemma said, once May had left the room. 

“You're good literally all of the time.” Skye looked up at her, wide-eyed. 

But Jemma didn't feel good: she felt small and alone, she pushed May and Phil away when they tried to help. She'd turned her back on Skye and Leo when they needed her. They were different and she didn't know what to do about it. And she felt so lonely: too little to take care of herself; too bad to ask for help. 

Skye was giving her Ada Lovelace. “Don't cry, Jemma.” 

Jemma held onto the plush. She tried really hard no to cry: she swallowed, she held her breath, but harsh, choking sounds came out anyway. A tear rolled down her cheek to her chin. “I don't know what to do,” she said. 

“Me neither.” Skye whispered. She was pressing her face into Jemma's stomach, as though that might calm Jemma down. 

They both heard the door open: Jemma looked up, guilty, as though she'd been caught doing something terrible. 

“Phil will come up with some food,” May said. “What's wrong?” 

May asking made it worse. Jemma pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Everything was dark and far away. Skye and May should ignore her; she was bad, she was stupid, she should be big. 

“Baby,” May said in her ear, and she felt May helping her up. She was afraid, for a moment, that May was going to bring her to the door, to kick her out, but in fact May continued to hold her, she sat on the chair, gathering Jemma onto her lap. “Just cry, baby, if that's what you need.”

Jemma felt herself shaking in May's arms. She worried about Skye: was she upsetting her? Would Skye make things fall apart again? Or would she be hurt? 

But May was rocking her, not saying anything, and the room was quiet, and still. The sobs went through Jemma's body, and then she felt them ease. She didn't know if she felt better or not, but she felt lighter. It felt good to be held. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. 

“You don't have to be sorry for feeling,” Skye said. “Daddy says so. And Mommy.” 

Skye didn't sound mad. And May smoothed back her hair, and said, “Skye's right, you know.” 

Jemma squirmed. She was afraid May would ask her more questions. She didn't know how to explain what she was feeling. “Can I have my dummy?” she said in a very small voice. 

She sat on May's lap, sucking her dummy, until Phil came up with food. Phil was trying to be cheerful, but Jemma could tell he felt tense. He hugged Skye so hard he jostled her arms and she squeaked, and when he hugged Jemma she hid her face in his chest and didn't let go. 

She and Skye both wanted to be fed. Jemma knew she should be embarrassed, but she just wanted to be held, for someone to take care of her. It was Phil, this time, who passed her bites of waffle and fruit. 

“Everything was sorting itself out,” Jemma said, because she couldn't hold it in any more. “And now it's falling apart.” 

Skye giggled. Jemma looked at her, wondering if she was making fun of her—though Skye wouldn't do that. 

“I said that to the shrink,” she explained. “It's true.” 

“It's not true,” Phil said. “We're all still here. We're going to be OK.” 

But Jemma kept her eyes on Skye. It helped to know Skye felt the same way. Neither of them were alone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU of 2.14. Coulson doesn't abandon Skye at the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains lots and lots of separation anxiety for Beerbad!

Skye didn't want to stay here, in the Cage, in the honeycomb kill-room. But she was also afraid to leave. 

Coulson had told her to pack a bag. The room had become cluttered, but it never looked like anything other than what it was: a prison. She pushed aside the DVDs, the pile of books Jemma had leant her. Board games. Bedding. What did a dog need when it was going to be put down? What did a human need, when she was abandoned? 

Skye wanted to cry. But she always wanted to cry, had always been a cry-baby, now more than ever. She swallowed hard. Trying not to think about it too much, she packed haphazardly. Clothes, toiletries, blanket, elephant. The novel she'd been reading. Her tablet. She held the bag against her chest. She felt small. 

She wasn't wearing a diaper or a pull-up. She was always near a bathroom up here, and sometimes it was easier to cope if she wasn't little. It meant holding everything inside, and that was dangerous, that might hurt her fractured arms even more, but it was less scary. She knew if she were little right now, she'd be lying on the floor, screaming. But she packed diapers. She'd need them if she fell asleep wherever it was Coulson was going to take her. 

“Don't leave me,” she said in a tiny voice. She wasn't sure who she was talking to. 

“All ready?” Coulson hadn't given her much time. He stood at the door, arms folded. He didn't look calm, but he was trying to be calm. He took her bag from her. 

Skye thought she was probably stronger than Coulson now, after all her training. But she let him take it. She didn't ask how long the trip would be. She risked one more look around the room, and followed him out. 

May wasn't there to say goodbye. Neither was Leo, nor Jemma. Skye guessed she couldn't be going too far. They'd come to say goodbye if she was going to be gone long, right? Or maybe they were glad she was going. She was a lot of trouble. 

She wanted to grab Coulson's free hand and hang on tight, but she knew that wasn't appropriate. She just followed him. 

*

Skye chewed on the candy Coulson had given her. It was nice to have something to suck, even if May would have told her a pacifier was better for her teeth. She was able to suck her thumb again now, although if she did it for too long her wrists started to hurt. Her thumb made her feel safer than a pacifier. Even if they left her with nothing, she could still suck her thumb. 

But right now she just laced her hands together. She still wanted to cry. Coulson hadn't even strapped in right beside her, there was a space between them, she couldn't reach out and snuggle up. No one could see them back here: there was only the pilot in the front. Coulson could've given her hugs if he'd wanted to. 

Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he had to harden his heart. That's what one of her fosters moms had said. She'd brought Skye back to St Agnes's, she'd looked at Skye's tear-stained face, she'd said, “Sometimes I have to harden my heart.” 

Skye hadn't even felt that safe with her, but she'd still wanted to cling on tight. It was scary to be left. She didn't want anyone to leave her. 

She took careful breaths. Held back the tears. What if she got frighten and the plane came to pieces? They'd die, and it would be on her. 

Her tummy hurt. She wriggled her toes. When she thought about it, she knew she had to pee, and that the adult thing would be to get up and walk to the little cubicle at the back of the plane. She never had good control: the smart thing was to go as soon as she felt the urge. But Skye nibbled at her thumb and stayed where she was. 

She wanted to make some dumb joke, and for Coulson to smile. But he was staring into the middle distance, his hands folded over his stomach. He looked tense now. He didn't look like he was going to smile. 

“I'm scared,” Skye said, in the same tiny voice she'd used back at the base. 

“You're going somewhere safe.” Coulson wasn't even looking at her. 

Skye brought her thumb to her mouth, sucking at the nail. Her heart felt fluttery, her chest full of bees. If he couldn't look at her, that meant he felt bad. He was hardening his heart, turning it into cement and stone. 

Or maybe he was glad to be rid of her. Maybe he'd decided she was too much trouble now. She'd always been a lot of trouble as an agent, and she was dangerous now on top of everything else. 

Her stomach felt sore, like she was maybe going to throw up, and her bladder was sending anxious signals to her brain. She felt trapped, caught between being brave Agent Skye, and little Skye. 

What was the point in being brave? Daddy was taking her away. Daddy didn't love her. She'd tried so hard to be good, and it didn't mean anything. 

She grabbed her bag from behind them. Coulson looked over at her. “You OK?”

She didn't answer. She pulled Ada Lovelace and her blanket out, from where she'd stuffed them on top of her clothes, and cuddled them to her chest. 

Coulson put his hand on her arm, once, gently. He said, “It's going to be all right, sweetheart.”

But he didn't pull her onto his lap. He didn't kiss her forehead. He stayed where he was. Skye clung tight to Ada and pressed her face into her blanket. It still smelt a little like Mommy's bed: powdery and safe. Skye felt little tears sliding down her cheeks and into the cloth. Her chest buzzed, but it wasn't the scary kind of buzzing. Her powers weren't going to come out just yet. 

She breathed slowly, letting the tears come. As she relaxed, the urgency in her bladder grew stronger. She knew she should go to the bathroom. But it felt like a long, long way, and she kind of didn't care if she wet her pants. 

She remembered when someone took her back to St Agnes's—the Kelsos, maybe—that she'd needed to pee, and she'd known they wouldn't stop, because they never stopped when she asked for the bathroom, and she'd just wet her pants because she didn't want the agony of waiting, and it didn't matter any more. It had been another mark against her at the orphanage, but she didn't care. No one liked her, anyway. 

She felt kind of the same now. She wanted Coulson to see how little she was, how broken. She didn't want to go to the scary bathroom all by herself, with the engines growling underneath her. She didn't want any of this to be happening. She wanted to be safe in May's bed, tucked up small, with Mommy on one side of her and Jemma on the other, and a diaper warm between her thighs. 

She sniffed. She felt so alone. She peered over at Coulson through damp lashes. He was looking at his phone. 

She knew about parents who were giving you away. When they were about to get rid of you, they tried really hard to ignore you, even when you were right there. They wanted you to be gone already, they'd made the decision, you didn't count. 

Skye was invisible, a bad kid, a bad puppy who was being brought back to the pound. 

Suddenly she wanted Leo. He wouldn't let this happen to her. He liked puppies, he didn't mind if they made mistakes. 

More tears. Skye drew her knees up to her chest. The change in position made the pressure in her bladder worse, the nagging ache in her groin intensifying, but she felt safer like this. Her blanket and Ada were trapped safely against her chest. 

The plane hit some turbulence not long after that. It made Skye's chest flutter and her tummy ache. Every bump seemed to spend an extra spasm of urgency through. It was sore. She was too little to worry about this stuff. She clenched up her thighs and crotch, but she still felt a little dampness in her pants. It was an emergency now: she either had to run to the cubicle or give up. 

She risked slipping her thumb into her mouth. It was awkward with the wrist-guards, but it helped. She sucked hard: it was her lifeline. She could still be safe if she had her thumb and her blanket. Coulson wasn't even holding her hand to make sure she was OK. She had to look after herself. She thought about changing her own diaper, and her tummy clenched with loneliness. 

When the turbulence stopped, she gave a little shudder of relief, and felt herself start to relax… and just like that, she was peeing. It felt warm, wet, and she didn't try to stop it. Her tummy felt lighter. She let it happen, sucking her thumb, her eyes tight shut. It was good not to hold on any more. 

She felt it soaking into the seat beneath her. For now, it felt warm. Maybe a little pee went on the floor too. She hadn't realised there'd be so much. 

“Skye!” Coulson said, in a startled voice. She wondered how he'd noticed so fast when he wasn't paying attention to her. 

She squeezed her eyes tight shut. He sounded mad. She didn't want him to be mad. 

“The bathroom is just over there. Why didn't you say something?” 

Skye peeked at him. He looked so adult and sensible, and maybe a little mad, too. He couldn't be mad. She didn't want that. She wanted to cry even harder. Her stomach was fluttering, the bees in her chest getting louder and louder. She felt a little rumble beneath her feet. 

Then he looked scared. Daddy looked scared. 

He put his hand on hers. “It's OK,” he said. “It's not your fault.” 

She took deep breaths. She tried to keep calm, like Mommy had shown her. But it was so hard. She focused on the bees, on the waves of energy inside her, trying to ride them rather than let them swallow her up. 

When she looked at Daddy again, he seemed a little calmer. He kept holding her hand. 

“Don't leave me,” she whispered. “Please don't leave.”

“I'm right here,” he said. He was looking at the puddle on the floor. “How are we going to get you clean?” 

“Doesn't matter,” Skye said. It didn't. She didn't care that she was wet and sticky. She was too busy being afraid. She ran her blanket over her cheek. 

But he let go of her hand. “Let me check with the pilot how much longer we'll be.” 

*

She didn't let go of her blanket the whole time. She let Daddy put Ada back in her bag, but she held onto her blanket, and whimpered when he tried to take it. Mommy always said, “Use your words,” but Skye didn't feel like she had any words. She pressed her blanket to her face. At least it was here. She wasn't going to let anyone take it from her. 

She was in the middle of nowhere. She'd once thought it might be kind of nice to be in a place like that, with Mommy and Daddy, with her family, but not like this. She felt more tears. You let your dog loose in the woods when it was bad. 

Her clothes were all wet and sticky. She was glad no one was here to see her. 

Daddy brought her bag inside. Skye stood in the middle of the living room, holding tight to her blanket. 

“You should wash,” Daddy said. “You'll get a rash.”

Skye didn't move. She couldn't do it all by herself. She didn't care if she got a rash. 

Daddy waited. After a moment, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. 

He led her to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, but Skye cried when he tried to take her blanket out of her hand. No, no, no, she thought. She couldn't let it go. It was the only thing that made her safe. 

So he turned off the shower, and helped her out of her pants. They were sticking to her legs now, and they smelt musky and salty. Gross. She was gross. 

She clung to her blanket and moved pliantly while Daddy washed her with a damp cloth. Under the sink, he found lotion and diapers, so someone had stocked this place, they'd planned this for her, and that was scary. She shivered as Daddy put the lotion on her, and he said, “Sorry, we're nearly done,” but she wasn't shivering because of cold. 

Once he'd taped the diaper on her, Daddy washed his hands, and led her back into the main room. She wasn't wearing pants or socks. 

“We'll have to get the washing machine working,” Daddy said. 

Skye just blinked up at him. All that stuff felt impossible. The dark roar inside her was quieter now, but she still felt so little. There wasn't anything she could do that would make this OK, so she just wasn't going to do anything. 

Daddy was still talking. She made out words—Captain America, laser grids, cookies—but they were all completely meaningless. 

“Oh, Skye,” he said. His voice was small and sad. 

Skye peeked up at him. She met his eyes. He looked defeated. He looked scared, too. Skye felt herself shiver. She didn't like to think of Daddy being scared. 

“You need some pants.” 

He found her some sweat-pants and socks. He wanted her to dress herself, but she was staring at him numbly. Nothing was working. So he helped her. She raised her feet so he could slip on the socks. Could pull up the pants. 

Then she was standing against him, his hand on her waist from where he'd pulled up her pants. She wasn't sure which of them moved first, but she found herself pulled into a hug. Oh thank you, she thought, thank you thank you thank you. She pressed her face into his shirt. He was holding her, he wasn't going to go. 

He kept hold of her as he moved so he could sit on the couch, and tugged her into his lap. She burrowed her face against his neck, tangling her hand in his shirt. Her other hand still clung to the blanket. It hurt her to hold onto things so tight, it hurt her wrists a lot, but she did it anyway. 

“Daddy,” she whispered into his neck, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” 

“Baby,” he murmured in response. He sounded gruff, near tears. She felt him rocking her, slow and arrhythmic, just like always. She found herself crying again, but the tears felt safe, like a release, rather than overwhelming her.

She felt herself slipping—not into sleep, but into a place of safety, where she was held and loved. The future and past didn't seem so threatening: there was only Daddy, and this moment. 

Then, after a long time, he put his hand on hers, and gently untangled it from his shirt. She was glad to loosen her grip—it hurt her bones. 

“Skye,” he said. “It's time for me to go. May will visit you the day after tomorrow. You won't be alone for long. It's OK.”

He said it all slowly and carefully, but Skye didn't understand anything except that he was leaving her. He shifted her off her lap: she slid onto the couch. 

No, she said in her head. And then she said it aloud, “No, no, no. Please don't leave me, please, please, Daddy, I'm scared, don't go. I can't do it, I'm sorry, please, please don't go, I'll be good, please...” Her voice was trembling. She wasn't sure if he understood her: the words tumbled out together, more like sobs than sentences. There were tears dripping down her cheeks to her chin. 

He pushed her away from him. He was almost rough. “It won't be long. You'll be fine.”

“No.” Skye didn't have any other words now. She stood up. Her legs were shaky. The bees were roaring in her ears. “No, no.” 

Daddy was turning his back on her anyway. “I have to go, sweetie.” 

“No.” She couldn't be grown-up, she couldn't do it, not now. She couldn't listen to him. He was gonna leave her and he wouldn't come back and she couldn't handle it, she couldn't. She sank down onto her knees. Her ears hummed, her chest felt like it was trying to contain an ocean. Like it was going to split open. The furniture trembled—the sofa, the floorboards beneath her. 

He was still walking away. 

She felt the roaring rise inside her. The ground moved. The windows rattled. Everything was breaking around her and she couldn't stop it. She was bad. It didn't matter. There was just this roar, and this deep pain inside. She curled up small, screwing herself into the smallest shape possible. 

The whole world seemed to tremble, she could feel all of it, she could pull it apart. She was scared, but at the same time, she didn't feel anything. She felt like driftwood. This was too big to control. 

She didn't care what happened to her. Maybe she'd fall to pieces. She'd let it happen. 

She waited for the blackness to consume everything. 

And then there was silence—no roaring, no ocean. She felt strong—like she could tear the world apart, or she could put it back together. She could manipulate it, she could make it dance. She felt small and insignificant and powerful all at the same time. 

And alone. And lost in the quiet inside. 

The world was still. She knew it was her doing—she knew she effected it, but it felt apart from her, somehow. She didn't feel in control. 

She pressed her cheek against the wooden floor. She felt it shiver against her skin. She felt each molecule, she felt its movement in space. She felt her blanket, still under her hand. She felt its constancy. She felt a kind of awe. There was something huge inside her, something she couldn't understand. And yet it was part of her. Maybe she would be in control, one day. 

She stayed very still. It was so quiet. She didn't know how long she crouched there on the floor, a toddler frozen in the middle of a tantrum. A lost child. When she sat up, she felt her diaper wet between her legs. 

She rubbed her face. 

Coulson was there, standing across from her. He wasn't moving. He was just watching her. 

“I'm sorry, Skye,” he said. “I'm sorry, baby.” 

“What happened?” 

“We were going to take off, and I couldn't do it. I told the pilot to leave. The house was shaking. The trees. I wasn't sure what would happen to us, but I couldn't leave you alone. I couldn't. I was wrong.” He paused, staring at her. “And then everything was quiet.”

Skye's mouth felt dry. She sat back on her heels. “I scared you. I'm sorry.”

He came over then, and put his hand against her cheek. “I think I scared you more. I'm so sorry.” 

“I felt like you were going to abandon me forever. Like all my other parents did.” Skye's voice was small, and she felt ashamed, admitting that. She'd been such a baby. She was such a baby. She didn't think things through, her emotions took over. She wet her pants on a Quinjet because she was scared. 

She nearly tore the cabin apart because she was scared. 

He sat down beside her, and put his arms around her. She leant against him. He said, “I haven't been a very good parent. I wanted to make you feel safe. I never wanted you to feel like this.” 

Skye put her hand on his. She didn't know what to say. Eventually, she whispered, “What will we do now?”

“Let's start by calling May.”

*

Skye sat on Coulson's lap, playing with Ada's ears, and only half listening to the conversation. He and May were discussing a schedule for her. 

“Don't leave me on my own,” Skye had said, and she'd clung to Coulson as hard as she could, peeking at May on the computer screen, like May might tell him to leave. 

But Mommy had talked in her calm voice, and Skye had laid her head over Coulson's heart and let their conversation wash over her. She was thirsty and she felt like she was made of jell-o. 

It was hard when May's face flicked off the screen and her voice was gone. Skye held on tight to Coulson. Her arms hurt so much, it wasn't good for them. But it was better to be sore than have him leave her. She knew he'd said he was staying, and she believed him, but some part of her still felt very scared. 

“How about something to eat, baby?” he said. “Or a bottle?”

A bottle did sound good. Skye nodded, rubbing her blanket over her cheek. 

Daddy tried to put her down, but Skye held on. They stood up together, Skye's hand on his wrist. She followed him to the kitchen. It was scary when she had to let go of him so he could get out the milk, or find a bottle on a high shelf. 

She rubbed her face against him, slipping her fingers through his belt loop. 

He touched her hand. “Oh, Skye.” He sounded sad. 

The bottle soothed her, but even after that Skye found she couldn't leave his side. Her stomach clenched up when she did, and her heart buzzed in her chest. She followed him around the small cabin, standing by him when he cooked macaroni for dinner, curling into him when he checked his emails, or made calls to other SHIELD agents. She was quiet, she was good, but she needed to hold him. He didn't get mad at her. He stroked her hair, patted her back. 

After dinner he said they'd watch a movie, but before that he headed towards the bathroom. Most of Skye wanted to let him go, knew that she should let him be alone at least then, but another, little part screamed that he was leaving her, and she wasn't safe. 

“Daddy,” she whispered, and grabbed his hand. 

He stopped. Skye pressed her blanket anxiously to her face, holding on tight. 

“You need to come with me?” he said. 

Skye nodded, griping him. 

He sighed. “I suppose I've seen you pee lots of times. It's only fair.” 

She sat on the side of the bath while he used the toilet. At least she managed to let go of his hand. The sound of his stream made her wet her diaper a little too, but she didn't tell him. It was too embarrassing. 

She watched the movie on his lap. They'd chosen _The Princess Bride_. Half-way through, he paused it, and got a bottle for her. She felt sleepy now, but she followed him to the kitchen on wobbly legs. She sat on the floor while he warmed the milk. 

It was nice to lie with her head in his lap as he gave her the bottle. She drank slowly, savouring the warmth. She was almost completely asleep by the time she was finished. 

When it was over, he shifted under her, and she felt herself waking up. She was shaking suddenly, not the scary kind of shaking, the coming apart kind, but the kind that meant she was afraid. “Don't go,” she whispered again, “Don't go.” 

“I've got you,” he said. 

Skye was so tired and so afraid. She wanted Mommy to rock her and nurse her. She wanted Fitz to lie quietly beside her. She wanted Jemma to make bad jokes. Most of all, she didn't want to be alone in this cabin. She couldn't stop crying—it was a hopeless, formless crying. She was a baby, and she was afraid, and she needed it to be better. 

“Bed time,” Daddy was saying, helping her to her feet. She felt trembly in his arms. “Come on, sweetheart, bed time. You'll sleep next to me, and in the morning things won't be so scary. We can go on a picnic, hmmm?” 

He kept talking nonsense, half-carrying her into the bedroom. He didn't even make her brush her teeth, like Mommy would have done. He just checked her diaper—it was hardly wet at all—and then he lay down with her, whispering stories. 

She felt like she clung to him for a long time. She felt like time stretched on forever, the darkness pressing against the windows, the strange cabin, the fear inside her. She'd drift, and then she'd jerk awake, fresh tears on her face. 

But when she slept, she didn't dream. 

* 

“I'm soaked.” Skye poked Daddy gently. Usually she didn't mind a wet diaper, but this one was soggy, squishing against her bottom. She must have peed a whole river in her sleep. That thought kind of made her smile: floating away on a river of pee. That would make Leo laugh, but not Jemma. 

“Daddy...” she whispered. He looked very sleepy. The sun was coming in through a chink in the curtain, and it was golden, so she didn't think it could be so early. Her tummy hurt too, like maybe she needed to poop, and he had to wake up. “Daddy?” 

Coulson made a funny snorting, snoring noise, and then opened his eyes. 

“Baby,” he said in a sleepy voice, and pulled her into his arms. 

It was nice to be snuggled against him. He smelt different when he was asleep: a little musky, but warm and familiar. His stubble rasped against her cheek. But Skye squirmed. “I'm wet and I need you to take me to the potty.” 

She felt a little bad for waking him. She guessed yesterday had been hard on both of them. But this was urgent. “Daddy, we've got to _go_.” 

“OK.” He sat up slowly. “OK, OK. Come on.” 

She preferred Mommy in the bathroom, but it was OK to have Daddy. It was definitely better than doing things by herself. Coulson brushed his teeth while she was using the toilet. When she was done, he started running a bath for her. 

Skye realised she'd left her blanket back on the bed. She looked at the warm water, and the rising steam, and then at her bare feet. She wasn't wearing anything on her bottom half, which felt weird, but kind of nice too, after the soggy diaper. But she wasn't sure if she could run back to the bedroom like that. And anyway, it would mean leaving Daddy… 

He wasn't going to go anywhere. She knew that. He was sitting on the edge of the bath, sleepily rubbing his cheeks. 

“My blanket's in the bedroom,” she said softly. 

“Can it stay there 'til after your bath? You wouldn't like it to get wet, would you?”

Skye hated when it got wet, it felt all funny in her hands. Sometimes Mommy insisted on washing it, and then it smelt all wrong for days. She shook her head. 

“Good girl. You can get in the bath now. Do you need help with your t-shirt?” 

She hadn't got undressed properly last night, so she was still wearing a bra too. She was able to get it all off by herself, but she needed Coulson's help with the casts. It was good to take them off. Then she stepped into the warm water, drawing her knees up to her chest. She hardly ever had baths, and it was nice to be in the warmth. Daddy sat near by, chatting to her, and helped her wash the shampoo out of her hair, so she didn't end up with any in her eyes. 

They didn't have any of her little clothes with them, so afterwards Skye had to wear jeans over her diaper. She knew the padding was obvious underneath them, and she kept trying to pull her t-shirt down. She guessed it was OK though, since only Coulson would see. 

“I'm going to have a shower now,” Coulson said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Will you be able to wait outside?” 

Skye slipped her thumb into her mouth, sucking softly. “Maybe if I can have my blanket.”

Mommy always told her to repeat herself if she spoke around her thumb, but Daddy almost always understood. “Let's go get it,” he said. 

The blanket was on her pillow, Ada on the floor by the bed. Coulson found Ada for her, and made her sit on Skye's shoulder, nuzzling Skye's cheek with her trunk. 

Then Skye settled down on the floor outside the bathroom, hugging Ada Lovelace and rubbing her blanket against her cheek. She listened to the shower running, and that helped her to believe Daddy was still in there, he hadn't left her. It was harder after the water shut off. She imagined he'd figured out how to slip outside without her seeing, or he'd never been there at all, she'd just made him up. 

Her heart began to race again, and she felt little and alone. She pressed her face into her blanket, hunkering down as small as she could. She was trying really hard not to freak out, because she knew she was being silly, Daddy wouldn't leave her, she was safe here. But it was so scary—he nearly had left her, and she couldn't help remembering all the other people who'd left too. She just felt so little—weak and needy and afraid. 

Then Daddy was sitting by her, pulling her into his arms. She settled into his lap, smelling his shampoo and his wet hair, and feeling his warmth. 

He rocked her on his lap until she felt soothed. She knew he didn't like to sit on the floor, so she appreciated it, though she was too busy sucking her thumb to tell him that. She hoped he understood anyway. 

*

They did go on a picnic. It wasn't that warm here in the woods, but it was warm enough to sit comfortably in the sunlight, at least for a while. Coulson had made sandwiches, and brought cupcakes and fruit. He wasn't being at all strict about food, so Skye managed to mostly eat cupcakes for lunch, with some grapes on the side. 

He leant against the tree, the warm light falling on his face. 

“You look tired,” Skye said. He looked better than when he'd been chasing the alien language, but he still looked drained. She felt bad for freaking out around him, for needing him so much. 

But he smiled at her. “This is my first holiday in a long time.” He munched a cupcake. “I wouldn't mind taking a nap later though.” 

Skye thought a nap sounded like a good idea too, so she was glad he'd suggested it. She yawned, looking up at the sky through the leaves. “Is there really a laser grid nearby? It doesn't feel like it.” 

“There is,” Coulson said. “Dr Banner made this place.” 

“Jemma said I was like the Hulk now. Dangerous.” 

He sighed. “Well, I'm not afraid of you.” 

Skye wasn't sure she believed him. “You were gonna leave me here!” 

“That was wrong. Sweetheart, I'm...”

But she didn't want him to say it again. She wished she hadn't brought it up, she wanted everything to be normal, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Even out here in the sunshine, she still felt panic. She cut in, “I always do something wrong. So they take me back to St Agnes's.” 

Coulson looked at his hands. “You didn't do anything wrong,” he said. His voice was rough, like he was upset. “You should always be with us, with your family. No matter what.”

“OK.” Skye wasn't entirely sure she trusted him, but she was glad he'd said it. “Promise you won't leave me alone?”

“I promise, Skye.” 

Skye knew promises weren't something she could always believe. Sometimes she hated that about them. But she'd thought for a long time that Coulson was different, and maybe he was. She'd trusted him for so long, and maybe she'd trust him again soon. She crawled over the grass to him, and leant her head against his shoulder. 

She said, “We'll have a nice vacation. Maybe go to the beach, Disneyworld...” 

Daddy put his arm around her. “How about the zoo? Ada Lovelace could meet her friends.” 

“Ada's friends live at the science museum.” Ada was a computer programmer, like Skye. 

Coulson laughed. She slipped her thumb into her mouth. It tasted a little like frosting, from the cupcakes. 

*

The next evening, May arrived. Skye had been excited to see her, even though she knew it meant that Coulson would have to leave. But when she heard the plane, she was frightened. She knew it was safe, but still her heart raced. She'd been sitting on the sofa with her tablet, but now she ran over to Daddy and looped her arms around his waist, hiding her face in his chest. He was standing at the window, looking up at the sky. 

She could feel herself shaking. Her hands ached in their casts. 

“May's coming to look after you, baby,” he said. “It's OK.”

Skye heard herself whining wordlessly, burrowing as close as she could. 

He helped her over to the couch, where she could curl up next to him. She clung on tight. Some part of her wondered distantly if he was sick of all the hugging. But he didn't seem to mind. He just stroked her hair and let her hide against him. The plane was getting louder and louder. Skye felt like it was drilling right through her skull, and she was so afraid. 

She wanted to see Mommy. She knew she wasn't being abandoned. But Daddy was going, and maybe he was trying to leave her by herself, maybe they'd never come looking for her again. She'd die in the woods like a poor, stray puppy. 

The noise rose until Skye didn't think she could stand it. She felt the bees in her chest, she felt them buzzing louder and louder, and she felt Daddy's grip on her grow. She breathed carefully, afraid of herself, afraid of what might happen. 

She felt something soft against her cheek. Daddy was stroking her blanket gently over her skin, the same way she soothed herself. She brought her thumb up to her mouth and began sucking, and she let herself relax into Daddy's arms. 

Suddenly, it grew quieter outside. It was almost silent again. 

“Do you want to go see May?” he asked. “We can wait for her in here if you prefer.”

But Skye did want to see Mommy. She stood on wobbly legs. She held her blanket in one arm, and gripped Daddy's jacket with the other, half-hiding behind him. 

For a moment the plane was still. It almost seemed like no one was inside. And then May came out, wearing her Aviators, and carrying a bag over her arm. Part of Skye wanted to run to her, but another part was afraid. What if she was mad? What if she was just here to take Daddy home? Skye squirmed closer to him, pressing her face against his shoulder. 

Peeking out, she saw someone else appear from the plane. Leo. 

Leo! She suddenly felt a little safer. Leo couldn't look after her like Mommy and Daddy, but she didn't think he'd let anything bad happen to her either. He'd looked after her when she'd been too afraid to tell anyone what was wrong. 

Besides, she'd missed him (and Jemma) a lot. 

She wanted to wave, but she didn't want to let go of either Daddy or her blanket. She settled for smiling at him, though maybe he couldn't see. 

May came over to them first, putting her bag down. Part of Skye wanted to throw herself in Mommy's arms, and part of her couldn't move. She looked at Mommy and back at Daddy, and suddenly it was too much, she didn't know what to do. She felt tears starting again: she just felt so little. Everything was so hard, and she was only a baby. 

She felt Mommy smoothing back her hair. She didn't say anything to Skye, but she kept her hand there as she spoke to Coulson. “Jemma's OK, but I'm glad you'll be back with her tonight. She's very unsettled. Leo's going to hang out with us here for a little while.”

“Hey, kid,” Coulson was saying to Leo, and she felt Leo next to her: Coulson was hugging him with his free arm. 

Leo was staying. And Mommy was here. She carefully let go of Daddy and put her hands out to Mommy. 

“I was scared,” she said in a teeny voice. She was trying to explain everything that had happened, but those three words were all that came out. 

“I've got you,” Mommy said, and it was really nice to be hugged by Mommy again too. Skye leant her head against Mommy's shoulder, and she took Leo's hand once he was done with hugging Daddy. 

Coulson had to go almost right away after that, because the plane couldn't wait and they needed him at the base. Skye had known it was coming, but even so, it was almost too much. She clung to Leo and Mommy so hard it made her hands hurt, and she felt her heart racing all over again, her throat raw and her face tight. 

Even Leo seemed sad to see Coulson leave, and Skye guessed that he'd missed him. He was chewing at his hands. Skye thought he should just suck his thumb like she did. 

May lead Skye into the house, and since Leo was holding her hand, he had to follow her in too. The plane hadn't taken off yet, but Coulson was inside it now, and the engines were revving. 

“I brought some more clothes for you, baby,” May was saying, as she put her bag down. “And Leo brought you some things too, didn't you?” 

“Games we could play,” Leo said. It was a little hard to hear him over the engines, though they were quieter with the door shut. He took out Operation and Jenga, which were both a bit challenging for Skye's wrists right now, and his DS. He'd also brought DVDs, and from underneath them he took out the little koala Sylvanian Families that belonged to Jemma. “She said you had to look after them really well.” 

“I will!” Skye was a little amazed that Jemma had trusted her with them at all. She took them very carefully—the Mommy and Daddy koalas, and the two baby koalas. The babies wore diapers like she did, except theirs were tired with ribbons. Her eyes felt all swollen, her cheeks salty, but she focused on their little furry faces and hugged her blanket close. 

Leo's monkey was in the bag too. He took it out and held it against his chest, winding the tail around his hand. 

The plane outside was taking off. Leo brought his monkey to his face and nibbled on its ear. Skye felt a big scary, empty place inside her, knowing Daddy was gone. Mommy was suggesting they watch a DVD, but she couldn't listen, it was too much, and she felt tears start to trickle down her cheeks. Her hands shook and throat felt so raw. 

“OK, baby,” Mommy said, putting her arms around Skye. “You need to cuddle a while, I can see that.” 

They got onto the couch again, the three of them, and the koalas too. Skye stuck her thumb into her mouth, trying to self-soothe, and snuggled into Mommy's arms. She breathed deep. She'd missed Mommy, she had, she just didn't want Daddy to go either. It was all so scary. She wanted them to all be together and safe, and no one to ever leave her. 

“Want to nurse, little one?” Mommy kissed Skye's cheek. 

Skye nodded. Nursing made her feel safer than anything. 

Mommy had to let her go so she could arrange her clothes, but Leo let her hold his hand. He looked little too, he was still sucking on his monkey's ear. Skye thought it must taste weird but she was glad he felt safe here. 

It felt nice just to rest her cheek against Mommy's breast, and smell Mommy's clean, familiar scent, and listen to her breathing. Skye felt her heart slowing down right away. Then she slid the nipple into her mouth, and began to suck slowly. Mommy was so soft and warm, and it felt so safe to be in her arms. Right here, she was allowed to be as little as she felt.

Skye felt like her muscles were melting. She hadn't realised she'd been so tense, but her heart slowed down, her tummy unclenched. Suddenly, her bladder let go too. She hadn't realised she'd been holding on, but she felt her diaper expanding between her legs, warm. It didn't matter. Her tummy stopped hurting, she felt Mommy rocking her a little, and she let her eyes drift shut. 

After a while, Mommy disengaged Skye's mouth. “It's too late for naptime,” she said. “We'll have dinner and some stories, and then you can sleep.” 

Skye wasn't sure why she was so tired, but everything felt heavy. She blinked slowly, sitting up, sliding off Mommy's lap and into the warm space between Mommy and Leo. 

Mommy leant forward, and took something out of Leo's bag. It was a teething toy, with little rubber bits to chew on, and harder plastic parts. “Don't chew your monkey, it's not good for you or him,” May said. 

Leo took the teething toy. He flushed a little, but started nibbling on one of the rubber bits, snuggling the monkey under his arm. Skye leant up against him. He felt warm, and she was so glad he was there. 

“Leo, pick something to watch with the baby while I make dinner,” May said. 

It was hard when Mommy stood up, but Skye stayed glued to Leo. She was glad she could see May from the couch, because her legs felt so heavy, and she wasn't sure she could walk all the way to the kitchen right now. It felt safe to sit with Leo, watching Mommy get food out of the bags they'd brought. 

Leo held Skye's hand. “They shouldn't have taken you away,” he said in a soft voice. “I wouldn't have let them.”

She couldn't imagine Leo being able to stop Mommy and Daddy from doing anything. But she said, “I know.” She squeezed his hand tight. “You're the best.” 

“Not really.” Leo nibbled at his teething toy. “Let's watch _Adventure Time_.” 

“OK.” He _was_ the best, but she wasn't sure how to make him see that. 

Skye wasn't really able to focus on the TV. She let the colours wash over her. She played with the little koalas, making them walk over her lap, and listened to Mommy in the kitchen, knowing she'd be back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues in my fic [Ascending](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3715306/chapters/8225512). 
> 
> I originally hoped to follow canon to the end of S2, but I was disappointed by the second half of S2, and found it didn't provide me with much inspiration for ageplay. I plan to write more stuff following the Ascending AU though.


End file.
